


Ambivalent Lucidity

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Drug Use, Explicit Language, F/M, First Time, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Suspense, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-27
Updated: 2007-06-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 10:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 24
Words: 51,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: When Draco Malfoy's mental health mysteriously declines, he is placed under the care of the only person he responds to: Harry Potter. Includes mental disorders (paranoid schizophrenia, Dissociative Identity Disorder, post-traumatic stress).





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

It has been so long since I began this fanfiction that I lost sight of not only where it was going, but earlier plots that were never resolved. In this completely rewritten and more mature version of Ambivalent Lucidity, I daresay there will be less confusion.

* * *

The moment Draco Malfoy’s grey eyes slid open, he knew that it was going to be another one of _those_ mornings. There were several reasons for this deduction: not only was it the first day of sixth year exams, but there was also a rather large owl taking chunks out of his hand. “I’m awake!” he yelped, and he snatched the rolled up parchment from the owl he recognised as his mother’s. “Out!”

At this snarl, the bird started and, feathers ruffled in indignance, exited the room in a swift manner. Draco placed the sealed letter on the comforter before lifting his sweaty palms to his face, sighing into them and giving his sticky eyes a good rub. It was much too early for correspondence, he thought, and he tumbled from between the sheets to land his bare feet on a chilly dungeon floor. Whoever had thought that it would be a good idea to make Slytherin’s dormitory in the dungeon was batshit insane, he surmised as he swiftly bee-lined to his trunk for a warm pair of socks. “It’s nine o’ clock!” sang Goyle’s alarm clock from the other side of the room, and Draco crept back into bed.

Settling into the warm blankets, Draco took the letter into his chilled fingers and slipped the Malfoy crest from the parchment and absently onto his pinky finger. The paper smelled of home, and he took a moment to savour the scent before unfolding the letter which read, in a tight, neat script: _You are expected home this afternoon, Draco. Everything is arranged with Dumbledore. – Narcissa_. The contents of this short note made Draco’s stomach churn–something must be wrong. His mother had not insulted the headmaster, for one, and Dumbledore only excused students from exams for very pressing matters. Regrettably, he found himself falling out of bed again, pulling on an old pair of robes, and heading out the door for Dumbledore’s office.

Shortly after, with his trunk and other belongings, Draco found himself standing in the foyer of Malfoy Manor in Scotland. His trunk hit the white-marbled floor with an echoing thud, and he tucked a flaxen lock of hair behind his ear before heading up the grand staircase. The manor was all white marble and gold trim, so every footstep was thunder in his ears, and when he knocked upon the oak door to his mother’s study, the sound nearly knocked him off his feet. Though he received no answer, he figured that the sound of the earth coming apart at his knock would have been enough to signal his presence, and he pushed the heavy door open to find his mother in her chair, facing the window that overlooked the extensive and lush gardens of the estate. “I’m home, Mother,” Draco whispered, watching Narcissa’s chair rock with an ever-growing feeling of regret for having made this journey.

Slowly, the chair swivelled around, and Draco was quite suddenly presented with the frail image of his mother slumped in her seat. In one hand, she clutched a bottle of hard liquor and, in the other, a Muggle toy known as a gun. Her crazed expression made Draco’s knees lock and his heart pound in his ears so loudly that he only registered Narcissa’s lips moving for a moment before realising that she was speaking. “—the flu, and they couldn’t d-do anything for it, D-Draco...”

“Huh?” he grunted dumbly, having missed the first part, but Narcissa’s eyes flooded with tears, and she thrust a piece of perfectly-folded parchment at him. With trembling fingers and a stone in his throat, he opened the fold and took a deep breath before beginning to read.

_Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy,  
We at the Ministry of Magic regret to inform you that yesterday, the day of June 22, Lucius Malfoy passed on due to circumstances beyond our control in his cell at Azkaban prison. His body will be sent to the funeral home of your choice, where you may assume all responsibility for his services. We deeply regret your loss._

Draco did not even bother with the list of names signed at the bottom of the body paragraph, allowing the page to flutter to the ground instead. There were a few moments of silence when neither Draco nor Narcissa spoke or looked at one another, then she cleared her throat quietly. “Everything is yours, Draco... We’ve left everything t-to you,” Narcissa breathed, causing her son to look sharply at her.

“‘We?’” he inquired in a startled tone, and he took an aggressive step forward, his hand reaching for the pistol in his mother’s hand. “You’re still here, Mother! Give me that thing!” With another few steps, he reached to grab at Narcissa’s wrist, but his palms were sweaty and slid off her arm as she struggled to place the barrel of the pistol to her temple. “Stop it!” He made another wild gesture for the gun, but Narcissa swivelled her study chair sharply from him.

“You will decide... where we must be placed,” Narcissa rasped, and Draco grabbed her chair to twist just as her finger jerked the trigger, and a loud gunshot announced the falling of Draco Malfoy to his knees and Narcissa Malfoy’s final breath.

“M-Mum...”


	2. King's Cross

* * *

The vast corridors of the Malfoy Manor had been empty for a month—after the initial shock of the Malfoy deaths, anything with the name had slowly faded out of the press—and so when thunderous footfalls echoed from the white marble walls, Draco’s eyes opened immediately. His tousled head rose from his goosedown pillow, and he blinked wearily as he heard his name called. “Draco?” Cool feet fell into slippers before he padded across his large bedroom to the oak door, and he tugged the doorknob before poking his head out into the north wing of the Manor.

Glances left and right bore no fruit, but the footsteps grew louder, and just as he decided that he was imagining it, a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Draco gave a terrible start and quickly took three steps backward. “Y-you?!”

* * *

Harry smiled at his two best friends as they walked abnormally closely together. Ron and Hermione had come together over the summer, and though Harry had always known that they were the most obvious couple in Hogwarts, he found that he rather resented being the third wheel in the relationship. He could never tell them, of course, and he felt like an arse for even thinking it, but watching Ron slide his hand into Hermione’s and tug her closer made him wish... No, he had other issues; more important things to worry about. N.E.W.T.s were at the end of this year, and he was rather glad that he would not have to deal with a relationship. “Come on, you two,” he said in a mock-cheerful tone, “The train’s going to leave you!”

He took a moment to stare at the barrier between King’s Cross and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters as though he were sizing it up. Ever since the 'accident' at the beginning of his second year, he found that he did not quite trust the wretched thing, so when he rushed at it with his cart, he winced even though he breezed right through. When his eyes opened, he smiled to see the platform teeming with his schoolmates, old and new, and he laughed raucously as a group consisting of Seamus, Dean, and Neville set off a round of Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-Bangs that caused all the birds in the area to squawk and ruffle their feathers. Seamus sent Harry a sly wink, and Harry merely beamed at him as Professor McGonagall rushed past to stop the chaos.

He did not pause to wonder why Minerva McGonagall was in London, being too amused as she hauled Seamus and Dean off by their ears, and he shook his head before pushing his cart up to the train so that the attendant might load his things. Just before the clock struck eleven, he hopped aboard the scarlet train and headed for the back.

Coming aboard so late was a bad idea, he decided as he found all the compartments near the front to be full, and he pushed through the younger years as he scurried back. Just as he spotted Ron and Hermione entering a compartment ahead, he felt a warm presence on his shoulder, which at first glance appeared to be a pale hand. Spinning around, Harry felt an uncertain rage burst into his chest, and he took a defensive step back, hand already on his wand. “What do you want, Malfoy?” he snarled with narrowed, nasty eyes. He expected Draco to sneer, snort, make threats, but the very last thing he would have thought Draco to do occurred, as Draco not only stayed utterly silent, but also moved to lean needily against his chest. “Wha—?!”

“Harry, there you are!” Ron exclaimed as he poked his head out into the corridor, but his happy expression rapidly melted into one of unbridled fury at the sight of their arch-nemesis cuddling up to Harry like a teddy bear. “What the bloody fuck is going on here?!” He came rampaging down the length of the train and roughly snatched Draco’s shoulder, wand drawn and pressed to the base of that pale throat. “Just who do you think you are?!” he cried, and just as he was attempting to come up with the worst hex imaginable, his wand was grabbed away by Hermione.

“Ron, look,” she snapped, and she waved her hand in front of Draco’s face, getting no reaction. “He’s not himself!” As though testing him, she wiggled her fingers in front of his eyes again, trying to get any sort of reaction out of him. When none came, she lifted a hand and touched his face for a moment before drawing back and slapping him lightly, the sound of cheek against palm echoing in the still air for a moment before Draco’s eyes filled to the brim with salty tears. “O-oh...” Hermione whispered, and she seemed, for a moment, as though she might retreat when McGonagall appeared out of nowhere.

“Miss Granger!” she yelped as she quickly placed herself between the girl and a sobbing Draco, who was trying in an almost violent frenzy to get to Harry, who had made a retreat behind Ron. “Ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor when we arrive! Now, run along with Mr. Weasley—I must discuss something with Mr. Potter alone!” Something about her tone caused Hermione and Ron to flee unquestioningly, which opened the path for Draco to crush himself against the Boy Who Lived. Harry gave a strangled yell and looked desperately to his Head of House, who took him by the arm and hauled both boys into an empty compartment at the end of the train. “I’m sorry for the shock, Harry,” she sighed, sounding exhausted, and she gestured to the seat across from her own. “Take a seat, and mind Draco’s arms...”

Harry sat down with a lapful of Slytherin, and he looked over to Minerva with a pained expression. “Professor, excuse me, but what the hell is going on?” he hissed as Draco curled around him and cried warm tears onto his shoulder.

She frowned and moved over to the pair, pulling Draco back from Harry and using her scarf to dry his tears. “Now, now... He’s here,” she whispered comfortingly, and she took one of Harry’s hands to place it on Draco’s wrist. “Just hold him there, Mr. Potter, and let me say before I explain that I, for one, was completely against this idea, but there was, apparently, no other way. Look into his eyes, Harry, and tell me what you see.”

Harry groaned and diverted his gaze to Draco’s, half-expecting a sneer or a sudden burst of laughter, but instead finding nothing but tears. There was no real expression, no malice, nothing like Harry had ever seen before, but upon further inspection, he found he was looking at an expression and understanding of one basic instinct: need. “...Professor, what’s wrong with him?” he asked quietly, turning his eyes from Draco and giving his Head of House a suspicious gaze. “And why is he responding to me, but not Hermione?”

McGonagall sat in silent solemnity for a few moments, thinking before she placed her hand in the middle of Draco’s back and nudged him closer to Harry, causing Draco to bury his nose against the tendons in the neck before him. The hair on the back of Harry’s neck rose, and he made a point of not resting his hands anywhere on Draco’s body. “At the end of the school year,” Minerva began, “Lucius Malfoy died in Azkaban. Narcissa, Draco’s mother, summoned Draco home to tell him the news, but by the time Draco arrived in Wiltshire, Narcissa wasn’t lucid, and before he could do anything, she shot herself with, strangely enough, a Muggle gun right in front of him. He was left in the estate by himself for the summer, and though he was sane after the funerals, something occurred over the holiday that cannot yet be explained. Draco developed Multiple Personality Disorder, most likely because of trauma, but no one is yet sure. He has displayed several personalities since he was admitted to St. Mungo’s, but not one would respond to anything at all, until the Daily Prophet ran a story on you in mid-August. Your picture was in the article, and Draco attached himself to it. He won’t respond to anything else yet... You notice he is solely focused on you.” She sighed and looked out the window for a moment, allowing Harry to absorb some of the information before she told him how it was relevant to him, “Ever since the article ran, he has been almost... stuck in this personality, and since you are the only person he has responded to, well... St. Mungo’s and the school’s Board of Governors have decided that Draco is to be placed under your care. It is, they say, the only conceivable way he can make any sort of recovery.”

“Now hold on a minute!” Harry snapped immediately, and he made a futile attempt to shove Draco off. “They can’t just volunteer me for this! Why can’t someone dress up as me at St. Mungo’s or something? What if I don’t want to?!” he cried, throwing his arms up in the air and slumping against the back of the seat.

“They tried everything, Mr. Potter. Draco... is your charge. We fully expect you to be able to do this! You will be excused from classes as needed as long as you keep up, and—”

Harry shook his head and shoved Draco very, very hard, resulting in the other taking a nasty tumble to the floor. Harry’s eyes widened as Draco hit the ground and stared up at him, face twitching until he let loose with a wail that would rival that of a crucifixion victim. “Oh, for God’s sake,” Harry grumbled angrily, and he moved to kneel beside his ‘charge,’ taking his shoulder in one hand. “I’m sorry, come on! You don’t have to have such a fit...” He slid both hands under Draco’s arms and lifted him to his feet, eyes rolling as the parasite reattached itself to his chest. “How can I take care of him when he can’t even care for himself?! He’s pathetic!”

McGonagall sighed and reached out to touch Harry’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I fully expect you to be able to figure that out. Now, his schedule has been tweaked to match yours, and he will be staying in your dormitory. It is up to you to make sure that no one else bullies him as well... That wouldn’t do at all.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze before opening the door of the compartment. “Go to your friends, Harry...We are counting on you.” With that, she Disapparated.

Confused and enraged, Harry half-dragged Draco off to the compartment they would share with Ron and Hermione, finding the two of them deep in discussion. “Sorry, guys,” Harry groaned as he pulled Draco inside and shut the door. “The damned bastard made himself crazy to spite me, I’m sure!” He flopped down in the seat across from his friends and growled lowly as Draco crept into his lap. There were a few moments of silence before Ron cleared his throat and coughed a little.

“So er...What’s the deal?” he asked, pointing at Malfoy with a look of disdain. 

Harry rolled his eyes and began to explain in a nasty tone, though his hands possessed an almost unnatural gentleness as he brushed clinging blond hair from Draco’s damp cheeks. As he told them nearly word-for-word what McGonagall had explained to him, it grew dark outside and lightning began to flash all around the train. Draco held more tightly to Harry, whose hands moved to rest on his back, just as Harry finished explaining, “So basically I have to keep him, like some pet or something... like a dog that won’t stop chewing up your shoes.” 

Hermione inspected Harry, watching him interact in silence with the creature she was not sure she could call Draco, and as they moved and got comfortable in an uncomfortable situation, she was certain that she saw a flicker of concern in Harry’s face. “Well, at least he isn’t being insufferable, right?” she asked. “I mean, he’s not really Malfoy. He’s... just someone else.” She gave a resolute nod as she noticed that Harry’s ‘pet’ had fallen asleep in his arms, and as lightning littered the countryside and harsh rain lashed against the windows, she nearly smiled as Harry only held Draco tighter.


	3. Sorting Hat's Warning

* * *

“Harry? Harry, wake up!”

“Come on! Get up!”

Harry groaned and swatted his hand at the noise, but when he realised that he had fallen asleep, he gave a start and green eyes shot open, slowly registering that the voices had been those of his friends. As the lights flickered ominously, he suddenly recalled the task that had been assigned to him, and that there was a distinct lack of Draco in his arms. “Draco?” he asked in a raspy voice—when had he fallen asleep anyway?—and a tiny whimper from the corner drew his eyes to the sight of Draco curled up in a ball and trembling. The lights went out completely, and Harry stumbled over to Draco, who was illuminated by an electric flash outside. “You’re all right, damn it,” he sighed, and as he helped the other boy back up onto the seat and stroked his wrist lightly, it dawned on him that the train had stopped. “What’s going on, Ron?”

“The train broke down...They said it shouldn’t take long at all to fix... We’ve been down about ten minutes,” Ron murmured grimly. Harry could hardly make out his form in the dark, and he pulled his wand to illuminate the compartment, however feeble it was. “Malfoy woke up just a minute ago and had some sort of fit...” Another lightning strike and ear-splitting thunder caused Draco to burst into sobs against Harry’s chest, and Ron winced at the sight. “Sick.”

Hermione shot Ron a nasty look before moving across the compartment to sit beside Harry. “Are you sure this is something you can handle?” she asked quietly, frowning as Harry shook his head and sighed as though he had the weight of all Hogwarts resting on his shoulders. ‘I’ll help, Harry... As much as I can, I’ll help you.”

Harry could have kissed her then, but he shook his head. “No, Hermione, he’s my responsibility. You shouldn’t suffer because of it.” His expression softened as Draco’s face rubbed gently against his neck, breath slowing as he eased into slumber, and Harry sighed. “He’s like a piece of glass,” he muttered, and he snapped his fingers. “One wrong touch and he cracks. What am I going to do if something happens?” His own words surprised him; he could feel his friends gaping at his words, but Hermione gave him a one-armed hug before moving back to her own seat.

“You’re admirable, Harry,” she stated as she moved to lie her head in Ron’s lap. “But don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it.” Harry nodded quietly and placed his wand on the seat beside him, the light going out to leave them in a deep darkness. He could hear Ron and Hermione shift a little, then just the sound of their breathing, and he found himself feeling jealous again.

This emotion was cut off shortly as Draco’s hand slipped up Harry’s chest to his neck, which he felt with chilly fingertips. Gooseflesh rose on Harry’s arms, and he leaned down so that his lips were close to Draco’s ear. “Go back to sleep... You should rest before the rest of Gryffindor finds out about you.” His words were hardly louder than a breath, and Draco’s fingers curled tightly into his shirt for a moment before slackening. Moments later, soft snores parted Draco’s lips, and Harry leaned his head back against the cushion of the seat, catching glimpses of his friends with every lightning strike. The train suddenly lurched slightly, the lights came back on, and they were moving again.

Just as Harry was drifting off, he felt Draco give a terrible start, and he thought nothing of it until Draco’s hands tightened on his wrists—so tight that he cried out in pain. “Draco, what the hell?” he growled, trying to jerk his wrists back, but Draco let loose with a horrific yell that shook the napping Hermione right off her seat.

“No, no, NO!” Draco screeched, and he clamped his hands over his ears, fingernails tainted pink with blood from Harry’s arms. “Shut up, SHUT UP!” Hermione hurried over and grabbed Draco’s hands as he began to rip at his hair, and Harry, bleeding from the fingernail wounds, grabbed Draco’s face and forced him to look at him. “I-I know... I know you...”

“You’re all right,” Harry whispered fervently, and he watched Draco’s eyes grow large before they fell closed and he shivered, wringing his hands. Ron gave Harry a horrified look and shook his head as his best friend slowly stroked their most hated foe’s hair like he was some sort of cat. 

Ron hated cats.

It was not a moment too soon when the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. For the rest of the train ride, Draco wrung his hands and murmured to himself as well as to someone no one else saw, and occasionally gave a sharp yell, and by the time the train came to a complete stop, Harry was so angry that he could not think straight. A furious scowl warped his features as he dragged the trembling and muttering Draco through the train, ignoring the copious stares directed to them from their classmates. “Come on!” Harry snapped as Draco came to a screeching halt outside the carriages, and he tugged his arm. “What is it?!”

Draco’s slate-hued eyes were focused not on the carriages, but what they were drawn by, and his hands grasped Harry’s arm in terror. “What?” Harry asked, following Draco’s gaze, then it hit him with a nasty jolt. Draco had never seen death before his mother killed himself—the thestrals were totally new. “Those are the thestrals we studied in fifth year,” Harry claimed quietly as he tugged Draco into a slow walk, “They won’t hurt you.” McGonagall had said that Narcissa had committed suicide by shooting herself, and Harry wondered why she had chosen a Muggle weapon. It was a nasty way to die, by bullet, but the thoughts escaped his mind as they clambered into the carriage.

Draco did not curl up on Harry’s lap, but sat beside him with his head down, shoulders touching, and Harry felt sorry for him then. When the carriage started up the rocky road to the castle, Draco looked solemnly up to Harry, his eyes hollow, sunken... He looked so much older than seventeen. Hermione and Ron, who shared the carriage with them, exchanged exasperated looks—they were no happier about this arrangement than Harry was—but they did nothing. What could they do? Harry’s arm slid around the Slytherin’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze before he let the arm fall. “What am I going to do with you?” Harry asked in such a quiet whisper that Draco scarcely heard him. Draco looked up and frowned, closing his eyes and leaning hard against Harry.

Ron could not help but glare at Malfoy, his eyes smouldering with utter loathing. He did not see the piteous gaze in Harry’s eyes—no, he saw his greatest foe stealing his best friend from him effortlessly—and it just was not fair. He was Harry’s first friend, not Malfoy, yet they looked as though they had always been so comfortable. Hermione, however, saw nothing but unintended tenderness in Harry’s manner, knowing that he did not mean it to be public. Draco looked so lost against Harry, as though he had taken the Dementor’s Kiss, and she even felt bad for the both of them. 

When they reached the castle, Harry was careful not to catch anyone’s eye, instead leading Draco quietly through the crowd by his wrist. His eyes remained glued to the ground as he hurried into the Great Hall, which was mainly empty, and he sat Draco down with him at the end of the Gryffindor table. The quiet in the hall was short-lived as hundreds of students poured in, and when it was seen that not only was Draco Malfoy sitting at the Gryffindor table, but that he was with Harry, the whispers threatened to deafen Harry’s ears. He glanced up to see a malicious Snape glaring at him disapprovingly—he must not have liked this idea, either—and he sneered back at him even as Draco pressed very close.

The rumours only quieted when McGonagall brought in the stool and old Sorting hat, which was placed on the stool in the centre of the room. The first years filed in, looking frightened, and there were the obligatory points at Harry before the brim of the Hat ripped wide and it began to sing:

_In days of old you never knew,_  
There were four great wizards who sought  
To teach and tell and learn the children  
Lest witchcraft and wizardry go to rot.  
There was the Great Gryffindor, the bravest;  
Noblest of them all was Slytherin.  
Then Ravenclaw of great, great wit;  
And Hufflepuff to let them all in.  
Each with their own desires,  
Each with a different purpose;  
United under one roof they were,  
But a problem rose to surface.  
Could four wizards so different,  
Bring together all of their kind?  
What would happen when they were gone?  
Then I came to mind!  
Gryffindor swept me off his head  
And with the spells of four,  
I sit and wait and sing for you;  
And so I shall tell forevermore  
The great legend of how you came to be;  
The legends that have not yet come to pass;  
There is a place for you in Hogwarts' old heart  
Be you courageous lad or bonnie lass.  
Should you go to Gryffindor, where live  
The intrepid souls?  
Or perhaps then to Ravenclaw, where the  
Great of mind break the mould?  
Maybe Salazar Slytherin's old house,  
Where go those of great ambition;  
Possibly you'll go to Hufflepuff,  
Who above all else prized dedication.  
Each and every one of them  
Wish they were here today,  
But I'm all they left, I'm all you've got,  
So listen to what I have to say!  
Different though these houses may be  
They were created under common mind.  
As then, today you have your differences  
To one another you should be kind.  
The danger has not passed,  
To Hogwarts, foes are courting.  
Unwind your contrasts, place me on.  
And now begin the Sorting! 

Harry shot Ron a wary look—the Sorting Hat had predicted danger every year, but this year, it sounded less severe. Was Voldemort’s power waning? Surely not... As McGonagall’s voice sang out the names of the first years who were to be Sorted, Harry frowned as Draco’s hand slipped into his, and he could see terrible worry in Draco’s forehead. He was worried, too.

The Sorting was swift, and Dumbledore stood before the student body, looking tired but cheery. “Friends, students, welcome back! For the new and old, I present what never grows old—let the feast begin!” And with the raising of his arms, food appeared out of nowhere, and everyone’s concerns were lost in food.


	4. Closer

* * *

The general air about the older Gryffindors was one of resentment and confusion as they found that Draco Malfoy was not only eating with them, but following them to their dormitory. While Hermione stuck close to Harry, Seamus pulled Ron to the rear and gestured to the clingy Draco and the obviously agitated Harry he was attached to. “You’re telling me,” he began to rant, “that that... that slime is staying in our dormitory?! If he says one goddamned word to me –ONE– then it’s all over for him. I’ll cut his throat in his sleep.” He drew his finger horizontally across his throat and shook his head.

Harry happened to hear the last few phrases out of Seamus’s mouth, and he whipped around suddenly, eyes ablaze with emerald fury. “Listen, Seamus. He’s sick. I’m not any happier about this situation than you are, damn it, but I’ve got to take care of him and you have to get used to it!” The crowd of Gryffindors had stopped to witness this encounter, and Hermione rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder, holding him back. “I’m fucking tired, and I’m not going to deal with your shit all night. If you fuck with Draco, I’m going to get in trouble for it, so sod off!” This reaction shut Seamus up quickly, and the Irishman dropped his head and hurried past, ignoring the whispers that spread like wildfire before him. “Come on, Malfoy,” Harry snapped irritably, taking Draco’s arm and pushing him up the staircase towards Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione followed closely, smiling at her best friend with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. “It’s just been a couple of hours, Harry, and I think you’re becoming attached to him...” she suggested, laughing when he shot her a nasty look. “No, really, it’s admirable that you’re standing up for him even though that’s not really what you’re supposed to be doing. That’s very... grown-up of you.”

He wrinkled his nose at her and shook his head, “Honestly, I’d rather be a child than have to deal with this, Hermione. What if he can’t go to the loo by himself? Or what if he can’t... I don’t know, brush his own teeth or something? This is more than just me trying to fix him; it’s me playing mother! I can’t deal with another person’s personal hygiene... That’s gross,” he admitted, and he diverted his gaze to Draco, whose normally perfect appearance was rather ruffled and unkempt. The real Draco would have had an aneurysm, and the messy hair and dark circles under his eyes were a testament to just exactly how out of his mind he must have been. Grey eyes turned to meet his own, and, for just a moment, Harry was certain he saw a glimmer of lucidity in them before they closed, and Draco leaned his head against Harry’s shoulder.

“He’s tired,” Hermione observed, and she felt her chest tighten inexplicably as Harry, without missing a beat, plucked the lightweight Slytherin off his feet and hoisted him into his arms. Harry really was falling into the caretaker role very easily, and though it was obvious that he resented this new casting, she knew that he would assume responsibility as he always did. “I should think he’ll be able to go to the loo himself, Harry, but you might have to help him with his hair and—er—maybe showering or something. I suppose you’ll find out when the time comes, but I wouldn’t concern myself so much with that, and focus on keeping him functioning instead.”

Harry huffed to himself, and climbed through the portrait hole, turning to look at Hermione before smiling weakly and nodding. “I’ll try... I’d better get him to bed. See you tomorrow.” He sounded exhausted himself, and when he reached the dormitory and found the extra bed for Malfoy near his own, he was glad to set the other down on the warm bed. “Can you undress yourself?” he asked quietly, and he frowned as Draco looked away. “Wonderful. Hold on...”

He retreated to Draco’s trunk and opened it, finding immaculately stacked clothes and other personal belongings. Withdrawing a pair of soft grey pyjamas, he closed the trunk again before moving to sit on the bed with Draco, proceeding to draw the drapes on the four-poster so they might have a moment of privacy. “Are these all right?” He received no negative answer, so he moved to take off Draco’s sneakers and robes for him. Draco seemed very self-conscious of this even in this mental state, and Harry kept his eyes securely fastened on the other’s face as he stripped him down to pants before helping him into the warm pyjamas. “There,” Harry sighed before he opened the drapes and folded Draco’s robes before moving to get ready for bed himself.

Ron came up a moment later, finding Harry half-dressed in sleep clothes, and he managed a feeble smile. “Sorry, mate,” he said quietly, and he gestured to the already-slumbering Slytherin. “This is the last thing we need this year, eh?” He sat down on his bed and flopped back onto the pillow, still completely clothed. “Just when we thought he was annoying enough, he pulls this... D’you think maybe it’s an elaborate prank? Death Eaters making a laugh for themselves?”

Harry sighed and gave a half-hearted shrug. “No matter what it is, it’s fucking annoying and I don’t feel like analysing it any further tonight, thanks...” His tone really was uncalled for, but this entire situation was starting off on the wrong foot, in his opinion. He should have been warned, he should have been consulted at least a little before the Ministry decided to change his entire life for him. Heaving a heavy sigh, he threw himself carelessly onto the bed and buried himself in blankets to fall asleep just as his head came into contact with the pillow.

A few days of classes passed, and Harry was nearing his wits’ end with Malfoy’s helplessness. He was forced to help his charge dress, shower, even walk sometimes (if Draco was not having a bad day, when Harry would have to stay out of class and figure out complex spells by himself), and so, as he fell asleep late Friday evening in his bed, he was looking forward to a full night’s sleep and a restful weekend. This, the purest of all sleep, was abruptly and rudely interrupted, however, as he woke up to a desperate screeching and the sound of ripping cloth, and he threw his drapery aside to find his dorm-mates awake and glaring in his direction. “Do something!” Dean yelled, gesturing to Draco’s bed.

Harry grumbled and hauled himself out of bed, hurrying to his charge’s bedside and throwing open the curtains to find Draco thrashing madly, muttering to himself in an unrecognizable tongue. “Hey, HEY!” Harry yelled, sitting down on the mattress and restraining the other’s arms as they snatched at the air in a blind attempt to seize Harry. “Calm down, Draco! You’re all right!” These words seemed to calm Draco for a moment, though in those stormy eyes there was a feral, wild shadow, and he violently, suddenly reached for Harry’s face with his fingernails poised to rip into his flesh.

“Get away from me,” He hissed in a nasty, horrible voice that made Harry’s heart stand still. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me! Let me GO!” By the end of this, he was screaming, eyes bloodshot and as large as tangerines. His nails caught Harry’s forearms as he was hauled into the Gryffindor’s chest, his face buried against that neck, and there was a sudden shudder that rocked both boys. Fingernails slowly eased back from the tortured flesh, and Harry soon felt burning tears on his collarbone, dripping down into his pyjamas, and he slowly trailed his open palms up Draco’s shuddering back.

When Draco’s tears dried, Harry took him back to his bed, tucking him in before climbing into the blankets beside him and staring at the ceiling as he was cuddled up to. An arm slowly wound its way around Malfoy’s waist, and he found himself holding tightly onto the other as the other boys fell asleep one by one. He drew the drapes closed and found that a small smile tipped the right side of his lips as the breath against his neck slowed and evened out, and he knew that Draco would never sleep alone again. As sickening as the thought was, he found that, whilst angry about it, it was not the most unreasonable idea—the other boys would thank him for keeping his burden quiet and close just in case he had an outburst like that. There was a warm hand on his stomach, and it seemed that the heat from that palm alone lulled him back into slumber.

Harry woke with the feeling that he had slept in far too late, and he gave a little start only to realise that Draco had not moved in the night or that morning, and was sleeping softly against his shoulder. Harry yawned quietly before resting his hand on the other’s hair, fingers threading through it as he contemplated getting up, and just as he decided that the morning was too nice to be awake for, the drapes were ripped back. “Er... You getting up, Harry?” Ron asked awkwardly, having noticed that his best friend’s hands had jerked away from Malfoy when the sun hit them.

“I wasn’t really planning on it,” Harry claimed irritably. He was not sure why it annoyed him that Ron had come tearing into his bed when it was obvious that he was not awake, but he was furious about it. “So, did you want something, or can I go back to sleep?” He caught himself glaring, and he felt like a bit of an arse about it, but he did not apologise.

Ron looked hurt, and his ears flushed pink before he just shook his head and stormed out of the dorm room. Harry drew the hangings shut and was just settling back into the comforting warmth of another body beside him when Draco stirred and eyelashes flicking open brushed Harry’s cheek. Harry tried to stay quiet to lull his charge back to sleep, but Malfoy gave a jolt a moment later and sat up, nearly falling out of his side of the bed as he stared at Harry wide-eyed. “Potter?! Why the hell are YOU—um... So... You must be the one they shoved me onto. Happy about it, are you?” He began to brush himself off as though sleeping next to Harry was like sleeping in the dirt. 

A great surge of anger welled up in Harry’s chest, and he found himself grabbing Draco by the arm. “You honestly think I WANT to be taking care of you?” he lashed out, eyes dangerously narrow as he squeezed that arm. Draco’s eyes widened. “You can’t sleep by yourself; any time someone looks at you funny, you fall into crying fits; you’re... you’re fucking pathetic!” He was raving for no good reason—Draco deserved compassion—but in that moment, he wanted Draco to know how hard this was for him to manage. “Of course, it’s better than you being a prat all the time... Really, you’re much better like this!”

When tears welled up in Draco’s eyes, Harry thought for a moment that the quietest personality had returned, but Draco shook his head and growled, “Do you have any idea what’s happened to me? No, NO, you have NO BLOODY CLUE!” He wrenched his arm away and nearly fell out of bed again, his hands trembling so hard that Harry could feel it in the mattress. “I’m fucking SORRY, okay?!” He moved to lie down on the bed, facing away from Harry and shaking.

The Gryffindor paused for a few moments, feeling horrible, before he reached out and touched Draco on the shoulder. When he received no response, he shook his arm slightly. “Malfoy?” The word caused Draco to turn his head to look sleepily at Harry, but it was still the real Draco, and though Harry did not care for him much, he lay down beside him—without touching—and closed his eyes. “Sorry...”

He received no response.


	5. Conscious

* * *

When Harry woke up again—when had he dozed off?—he found that it was no longer the actual Draco lying beside him, but the clingy, weepy persona, who was lying on his side with arms wrapped around Harry’s elbow. Blinking heavily, Harry pulled his arm away and watched as Draco squirmed around on top of the blankets before grey eyes opened, and he met a green gaze. “Are you hungry?” Harry asked groggily, rather disappointed that Draco had not returned for good so that he could have some semblance of a life back. Draco seemed to not comprehend what he was saying, so Harry sighed and picked out clothes for him.

Dressing Draco was a brief affair, and afterward, the pair headed down for lunch. Harry tried to avoid letting Draco cling to him for support, and to his surprise, the other was content to walk closely beside him, though he never strayed more than a foot or so. The Great Hall was relatively empty due to the beautiful weather outside, but this certainly did not stop the whispers the moment the two rivals stepped in and sat down at the Gryffindor table. Seamus and Neville were seated across from the two, and Seamus shot his companion a strained look before he cleared his throat a little. “You slept in late, Harry,” he said quietly, his gaze carefully avoiding Draco at any cost. “You feeling okay?”

Harry sighed and gave a shrug. “I s’pose I feel as well as can be expected, Seamus. I don’t like the situation any more than—”

“We know,” Neville cut in, and he smiled quietly at Harry. “It’s really nice of you, I think. Even though he’s a pain in the arse for all of us, you’re taking the most damage. You should get a plaque or something– I would have gone nuts by now. I mean... You could have said no, but you didn’t. That’s _decent_.” These words made Harry feel slightly better, even as Draco’s empty persona took him by the hand as he ate in silence. “You’re a.... a god amongst men!”

These words made all three of them laugh aloud, and Harry felt more accepted by his housemates for it. If no one else, at least Neville understood, even if it was only because Harry knew Neville would give anything for his parents to be released into someone’s care if there was any chance that they could get better. He gave Draco’s fingers a squeeze before he took his hand away so that he could use his fork, but he did not mind so much when a pale hand rested on his knee. As long as it was not the real Draco, it was all right according to Harry.

After lunch, Harry escorted Draco outside for a walk of the grounds. Figuring that a walk might do Draco’s health some good and that it was a beautiful autumn day anyway, Harry led his charge down to the lake to walk alongside the shore. The gentle lapping of ripples against the muddy beach seemed to soothe Harry’s soul, and when Draco leaned in against his side, he freely wrapped an arm around Draco’s shoulders. This empty personality made a good friend, he thought, in that he never argued, never fought with him, never disagreed, but Harry found himself wishing that he could chat with this mysterious person. He wondered what he thought about, if anything, what he wanted, and what he dreamed about when his eyes closed. Perhaps he was reading too much into an empty shell, but perhaps not—when this person cried, it was real, as though Harry himself was crying.

Harry found a nice spot in the taller grass far from the castle to sit in with his companion, and they sat for a long time there, the wind caressing black and blond locks alike, sweeping them back like a lover trying to see her sweetheart’s eyes. No voices carried this far into the grounds, and Harry was not self-conscious when Draco lay down in the grass with his head on Harry’s mid-thighs, and his hand automatically took the wind’s place in fingering the hair from Draco’s brow. Slowly, Draco rolled onto his back and looked up to the sky, slate-grey gaze occasionally catching a green one before blinking very rapidly. “Potter?”

Harry’s hands jerked out of Draco’s hair, and he felt his cheeks begin to burn as neither of them made another move. Their eyes were locked, and though this stare-down was not menacing, both could feel an odd sort of tension present between them until Draco’s hand reached back to take his companion’s. He broke their shared gaze to look out over the lake as he placed Harry’s hand back on the top of his hair, and he closed his eyes as uneven fingernails tentatively tickled his scalp. The only break to their silence was the whistle of the breeze, until: “Do people laugh at me?”

“What?” Harry asked, looking down to watch his arch-nemesis pluck a blade of grass and place it strategically between the sides of his thumbs. “Laugh at you? I honestly don’t know what there would be to laugh about, but I think... I think everyone—in my house at least—is pretty pissed off about the whole thing. They don’t get it.” He shrugged a little, realising that it did not make him feel strange to run his fingers through the actual Draco’s hair. It felt just like the other personas’ hair. “I’m not even sure I get it, honestly, but—”

He was cut off abruptly as Draco pressed his lips against his thumbs and blew, the grass between them emitting a high-pitched screech that made him wince. He blew three long, earsplitting notes before dropping the blade and beginning to laugh, like it was the greatest joke ever told, and he pressed his palm to his forehead in mirth. Harry stared at him until that laughter evolved into tears, and he did not know what to say as the person he once hated as much as Voldemort rolled into him and pressed his pale face against his stomach to sob out his frustrations. Harry did not try to pretend to understand, but he rested his hands on Draco’s shoulder and back in the only indication of comfort that he could muster the courage to give. Thin arms wrapped around his middle, and they shifted together so Harry was lying back, propped up on his elbows with Draco’s face hidden in his stomach. 

“Oh look, there he is,” Hermione said with a smile, nudging Ron with her hip as they themselves took a long walk of the grounds. “I thought he might be down here...Where’s Draco, I wonder?”

Ron shrugged a little and shook his head. “Honestly, I hope he isn’t down here. We haven’t spent any time with Harry alone, really, and Quidditch tryouts start next week. We have to practise flying—I hardly got to all summer!” he growled, gesturing to the beautiful blue sky with an indignant hand. “Look at this weather. Look at it! There couldn’t be a more perfect day for a ride!”

Hermione frowned and stopped walking, staying out of earshot of Harry to lecture Ron. “Look, Ron, Harry’s got a lot on his plate right now without you whinging about not getting a fly in this week. Maybe I’ll talk to him later, get him to let me take Malfoy for a while, but if not, please don’t complain. We’re his friends—we’ve got to be sensitive to the situation.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced over to Harry just in time to see Draco sit up from the tall grass and lean heavily against her best friend’s shoulder, and she sighed lightly as his arm came to rest around thin, pale shoulders. “Maybe... Maybe we should leave them alone, Ron.”

Ron blinked at her sudden change of heart over seeing Harry, but when he turned to see the pair practically cuddling in the field, he found himself suddenly nauseous. “Er...Yeah, let’s go back to the castle. I think I’m gonna be sick,” he mumbled, his ears tinted pink, and he allowed Hermione to turn him away towards the castle. She cast one look over her shoulder, and Ron knew that she felt like crying seeing Harry like that. “We can have some sweets or something in your dorm, how’s that?”

“Fine...” He managed to resist turning around to have another look as they wound their way back towards the castle, knowing that if he saw them again, he would not be able to control himself.

Slowly, Draco fell almost perfectly still, and Harry’s hand lightly patted his shoulder. “You all right now?” he asked in a whisper, reluctant to end the perfect silence of the afternoon. He felt his companion nod, and he released a deep sigh of relief. “Good. Er... did you want to head back up to the castle, or—?”

“No, thanks,” Draco replied, his voice unstable from his previous state of distress, and he allowed himself to tuck his face in against Potter’s collarbone. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I really don’t feel up to moving right now. I’m weak.” He did not spare a moment to think about how strange it was, him cuddling up to the Gryffindor he had always hated so much—he knew that Potter was his only hope of recovery short of drastic medical measures that would not only be very painful, but very expensive—and instead let his eyes fall shut. “Sorry if you’re uncomfortable.”

“N-no, I’m not,” Harry stuttered immediately, and he felt his cheeks light aflame before he gazed down to stare at Draco in his arms. They looked like a couple, sitting there in that field and wrapped up together, but Harry knew that Malfoy needed comfort that only he, his caregiver and only friend in the world, could provide. Anyone would understand that. His hand rose to bury in Draco’s hair, and he squeezed him there in the field, all enmities forgotten if only for that moment, and Draco fell limp against him shortly before his breaths evened out, and he slept.


	6. Sketches

* * *

Severus Snape strode briskly into the Headmaster’s office, eyes alight with fury over the news that had recently struck his ears. He ignored the forced-polite greeting from his colleague Minerva to march across the room and slam his palm down on Albus’s desktop. “Albus, I will not have my student—no, my _godson_ —sleeping in the same bed as your Golden Boy, no matter how ill he has become!” he snarled fiercely, specks of saliva leaping from his mouth as he spoke. “It is absurd, preposterous, and... and any other thing you can think of!” He slapped the desktop again before flopping down into one of the comfortable recliners.

“Oh, _do_ blow this completely out of proportion, Severus!” Minerva scolded, her hair pulled back so tightly that her forehead was white. “I hardly think that either Potter or the true Malfoy is happy about the situation, but when the alternative is no sleep for an entire room of boys, I really think it is the best thing for them. Besides, it certainly seems to be therapeutic for their rivalry, and I think we’ll be seeing a whole new side of the both of them soon enough.”

“I agree.” Dumbledore looked, musing, to the ceiling for a few moments before he rested his chin on his knuckles. “My sources inform me that, at this very moment, the two are studying in the library for your test tomorrow, Severus. I never thought I’d see the day when Potter was studying for Potions. As for the sleeping situation, I believe that I should have the house elves set up one of the empty rooms in Gryffindor Tower for them. There is obviously progress—you do realise, Severus, that your godson’s core personality is beginning to make appearances? He was stuck with just the one when first placed in Potter’s care,” he claimed, and he popped a lemon sherbet in his mouth. 

“Be that as it may,” Severus whispered in a dangerous tone, “I will not tolerate Potter taking advantage of my stu—”

“Taking _advantage_?! Severus Snape, my student would never be so bold as to—”

“Break the rules? Get the cotton out of your ears, you old ba—”

“Enough.” Dumbledore held up a hand for silence and stared at the both of them. “As Headmaster of this school, I believe that we should see how this situation plays out. I do not believe Harry has any ill intentions, Severus, and Minerva, you must admit that Potter has a penchant for ignoring boundaries. However, I think we don’t have anything to worry about as far as any... well, _relations_ go. While Harry may disregard rules, he does have honour, and he is not, as you so willingly crow, Severus, stupid. Draco is making progress, and that is far more important than you realise. I believe he may have... information. Harry is the key to that door.” He leaned back in his chair and rested his forearms on the cushy armrests, staring down his long nose at his employees and friends. “You know how important that is.”

 

Harry was not, as his superiors assumed, studying for the Potions test, but poring through tome after tome of information on Dissociative Identity Disorder. It was interesting to him how every single case was different, how the other personalities must “fuse” with the “core” Draco, and he wondered what it would take to get this fusion to occur. As he read, it dawned on him what he had gotten into, and he looked nervously over the book to see Draco boredly skimming through his Potions text. “How are you doing?” Harry asked quietly, the book hiding his smile as Malfoy poked his tongue out and made a horrible face. “That well, hm? That’s quite possibly the most attractive I’ve ever seen you. I’ll bet the women go crazy for that.”

“Oh, you have no idea. There’s one under the table who’s blowing me this very minute,” Draco snorted, and he flipped the yellowed page of his book. “I honestly don’t know why we have to brew Wolfsbane. There just aren’t enough werewolves to justify... aren’t enough werewolves to just... I honestly don’t know why we have to brew Wolfsbane.” Harry stared at Draco for a few moments, trying to discern whether or not he had actually heard what came out of Draco’s mouth, and he narrowed his eyes a bit.

“Malfoy, you all right?” he asked, setting his book down on the table with a light ‘ _thud_ ’ to walk over to Draco and kneel down beside him. “Look, your hands are shaking.” Harry took Draco’s hands and held them tightly, trying to calm their shaking, and Draco looked away, obviously embarrassed by this small sign of weakness. “Besides that, you’re repeating yourself... I think we need to stop studying for today.”

Draco looked down to Harry with a slightly frightened expression, and he looked around the library to ensure that it was relatively empty before his fingers laced with Harry’s and he gripped them tightly. “I feel like I’m going to pass out. Harry, please, stop it...” He squeezed his eyes tightly closed before he slid off his chair and to his knees, pressing his face to Harry’s shoulder and digging his nails into the back of Harry’s hand. Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Draco, soothing him and calming him down before he felt his charge fall limp against him.

“Damn,” Harry growled, and he sighed as Draco pulled back and looked up to him with grey eyes sparkling with childlike innocence. That stormy gaze looked down to their clasped hands, and to Harry’s shock, the persona let out a loud, high-pitched giggle. “Shh! We’re in a library!” Harry pressed a finger to Draco’s lips, cheeks aflame as he realised that everyone in the library was staring at them, including Madam Pince. Draco blew a loud, wet raspberry against Harry’s finger, coating it in warm saliva, and let out a wild cackle as Harry jerked his finger back and scowled, wiping it off on his jeans. “What’s _wrong_ with you?!”

Madam Pince stalked over, fury almost visibly fuming from her ears. “Listen, Potter, Malfoy, I understand that you two are going through a very difficult time right now; regardless, this is still the library, and you must keep quiet!” She gave her foot a little stamp before pointing to the door. “Now please, make yourselves scarce!”

Draco reached up and swatted at the hem of Pince’s robes before Harry stood up and jerked him up by his arm. “Come on, damn it,” he sighed, ignoring the reproachful look from the librarian as he hauled Draco from the room. “How old are you?” he asked Draco as he pulled him down the corridors towards Gryffindor Tower, trying to ignore the fact that Draco was skipping alongside him and swinging his arm to and fro. 

“Six!” the child replied, and he grinned up at Harry as they entered the tower. “How old are you?!” Harry sighed, feeling a headache coming on already.

 

Harry grabbed his broomstick and grinned over at Ron before mounting and soaring into the evening sky. Hermione had agreed to watch Draco for the evening, and for the first time this year, Harry let himself go with his two best friends: Ron and his Firebolt. “This was a great idea, Ron,” he laughed as they circled the pitch together, the wind whipping through their hair. Ron grinned and tore ahead of him, and the pair played a game of cat and mouse throughout the Quidditch pitch. Harry needed this. He needed to get away, if only for an hour.

Hermione sat on the couch before the fire in the common room, watching the childlike Draco doodle on scraps of paper on the floor. “What are you drawing there?” she asked with a smile, leaning over the edge of the couch to try to catch a peek of the sketch, but Draco snatched it away. “Oh, it’s a secret?” She slid down on the floor next to the boy and smiled as he begrudgingly handed her the sketch he was working on.

She was shocked—though this Draco was only six years old, she had never seen such realism in a sketch—and she patted Draco on the shoulder to congratulate him before she peered closer at the picture. It was of him and Harry, both on their knees, with Harry holding him to his chest, and Hermione had never seen such a look of tenderness in Harry’s eyes, be it in real life or impression. The boys’ hands were locked, fingers laced, and Draco had taken the time to draw the half-moons at the bases of Harry’s fingernails and the white spots that always took too long to grow out. “Oh, Draco,” she whispered, following Harry’s other arm to his other hand, which was buried in lightly-drawn hair, strand by strand, and she could nearly feel the heartbeat Draco’s hand on Harry’s chest was searching for. “This is astounding. Can I have it?”

Draco’s cheeks flushed, and he sniffed a little. “I don’t care,” he said in a huffy, little kid voice. “Wasn’t for ‘Mione, though. Hawwy’s.” He crossed his feet and waved them a little above himself on the floor, and he took another piece of paper. “Where is Hawwy anyways? With Won?” he asked as he drew a broomstick with someone Hermione did not recognize astride. She nodded, and Draco sighed as though he had the world on his shoulders. “Oh. Back soon?”

“He won’t leave you for long, Draco...”

Three hours later, Harry came up the stairs, broomstick over his shoulder and a huge grin on his face, to find Hermione sleeping on the couch and Draco snoozing on the rug. Quietly, he snuck over to Draco and touched his shoulder, smiling as grey eyes he recognized as the real Draco’s opened and focused on him. “Hey, sorry,” he said quietly, moving to help Draco to his unsteady feet. “Do you remember anything?”

Draco shook his head. “We were in the library... and I passed out, and here I am. Just tell me tomorrow, okay? I’m so tired.” His voice was scraggly, and he leaned heavily into Harry’s side, much to the disgust of Ron, who was sitting on the couch next to his sleeping girlfriend. Draco made a nasty face at him before allowing himself to be led up the stairs. “Where did you go? Did you leave me with the Mudblood?”

“Her name is Hermione, and yes, you stayed with her while I went flying with Ron. I needed an evening to myself,” Harry said quietly, his arms sliding around Draco’s waist as the Slytherin sagged against him. “I wonder what you did that made you so tired...” When they got into the dormitory, both boys undressed and got into their pyjamas before crawling into Harry’s bed. There were a few moments of awkward staring before Draco just rolled his eyes and got comfortable on his side, facing Harry and halfway hugging the pillow. Harry smiled slightly before he allowed himself to reach out to Draco, his warm hand resting on Draco’s wrist. “Hey.” Blond lashes fluttered before their gazes met in the low candlelight; Draco cocked an eyebrow in question. “Good night.”

“Oh... Good night.” Draco smiled a little, and he closed his eyes again as the candle extinguished.


	7. Screams

* * *

Transfiguration class was, in Harry’s opinion, becoming rather dull in the later years. Sure, they were performing magic he never had thought he could do, but there seemed to be little sport in it anymore, especially since there were things bigger than Transfiguration about. He couldn’t be very interested in McGonagall’s class when he was supposed to be fusing someone’s mind back together. Draco had been paying attention up until a moment ago, when Harry saw him seize up, and Harry had a feeling that it was no longer Draco who was sitting beside him. It was definitely the doodles on the parchment that confirmed this.

Harry found himself completely deaf to the lesson as he watched Draco sketch furiously on the parchment, eyes wide and intense as he worked on what, to Harry, looked like a mass of black scribbles. The scribbles began to deviate from the main mass, and Harry saw the outline of a strong jaw, sloping into a tautly-stretched neck. The eyes were next, and as they were framed by black glasses, Harry realised that he was looking at himself sleeping. Draco angled his body so he was lying on his side, half-covered by his comforter, and slowly it became apparent that Harry was not alone in this bed. Just as Draco began drawing himself tucked against Harry’s chest, there was a sharp slap of a ruler on their table that caused both boys to start and stare up at McGonagall. “If you are just going to draw, Mister Malfoy, I suggest that you and Mister Potter leave. Regardless of your condition, I require full attention in my classes, thank you!”

Harry flushed deeply before gathering his and Draco’s things, and he took Draco’s arm and helped him to stand up. Draco stared at McGonagall, looking as though he might cry, and Minerva sighed before gesturing at Harry to take him away. Harry glared nastily at her as Draco began to tremble, and he pulled Draco along until they were out in the hall, door slamming behind them. The bang caused Draco’s tears to spill over, and Harry threw an arm round his shoulders and led him back to Gryffindor Tower. “It’s all right.. .She’s a right old bat, she is, and you shouldn’t get upset over her. It’s pointless.”

Draco sniffled and nodded as they climbed in through the portrait. “Hawwy, I wanna take shower,” he whispered in a shaky voice. Harry froze—the other Dracos had always been able to shower by themselves, but by the looks of it (Draco was standing with his arms over his head, and he waited for Harry to undress him), Harry would be forced to help. With a deep sigh, he moved to pull Draco’s shirt over his head, revealing a lithe torso with just a smattering of blond curls on his chest and a line of the stuff trailing down from his bellybutton to disappear into the waistband of his trousers. “Whatchu lookin’ at?”

“Uh.” Harry averted his gaze to meet Draco’s eyes immediately, and he swallowed before shaking his head. “Nothing. Thought I saw a scar, but I’m just imagining it. Can you, er...take off your own trousers?” When Draco shook his head, Harry took a deep breath and reached out to unbutton and unzip them, sliding them down over Draco’s hips while carefully keeping his gaze to Draco’s eyes. He noticed that they looked a little funny, and they blinked several times in rapid succession before becoming very suddenly clear and fierce.

“What the _fuck_ , Potter?!” Harry’s hands flew away as though burned, and Draco took a few steps backward before his legs got tangled in his trousers and he began to fall backward. Harry reacted immediately, and leapt forward to catch him and jerk him upright again, holding him against his chest for a moment before, breath heaving, he let him go. “Damn it, what are you doing?”

Harry blushed, though he was much more angry than embarrassed. “What am I doing? Your new personality wanted to take a shower and refused to undress himself! God, you and your jumping to conclusions!” He threw Draco’s shirt at him and turned around so Draco could dress himself. “Ugh... How are you feeling, anyway?” He turned back around as he heard Draco flop onto the bed.

“Tired,” Draco confessed, lying back to rest his head on the pillow. Harry nodded in agreement and sat down by his feet. Several moments passed awkwardly before Harry gathered himself together and moved up to lie right beside Draco, watching him closely. Grey eyes shifted to stare at him in return before, “What are the other personalities like?” Draco rolled onto his side and rested his head in the crook of his elbow.

Harry rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, musing over how to word was he was about to say. “Well... The first one I ever encountered shows up a lot... He is really quiet and clingy unless something upsets him, then he sobs like I killed his puppy or something. Then there’s... well, he’s like a little kid, but he draws a lot. He’s very good,” he claimed, and he glanced over to his charge to see him staring forlornly at the pillow. “If I may ask, what happened to you?” He reached over as he asked, to touch Draco’s elbow, trying to convey that he was there for him, that it would be okay to tell him.

Feeling that touch gave Draco a shiver, and he shook his head a little. “I can’t talk about it,” he admitted, carefully avoiding Harry’s eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it. Ever.” He brought a hand up to his face to cover it, and Harry suspected that he was on the brink of tears. “Please don’t ask, okay? You can try to make me better or whatever, but I can’t tell you what happened.”

“If I knew what happened...”

“It could be quicker, I know. I just... I need to take a shower.” Draco’s voice was shaking, and he got out of bed, swiftly undressing and snatching a towel from his own trunk before disappearing into the bathroom. Harry stared after him, sighing and relaxing on his back as he heard the hot water flip on. Poor Draco, he thought, and he drew the drapes on the four-poster so he might have some time to himself.

Yes, it could help the fusing process if Draco told him what happened so he could keep him away from any similar situations and also because it would be out in the open, off Draco’s chest. That thought made Harry’s heart skip a beat—when he was undressing Draco earlier, the sight of that chest did something funny to his stomach—and he took a deep breath, feeling his heart hammering against his ribcage. He placed all the pillows under his head, relaxing as he recalled that sight, the light carpet of blond fuzz that existed between Draco’s nipples, and he swallowed as he felt his pants tighten strangely. This should not have been arousing at all to him, he thought, and he moved his palm to try to push his arousal away, but the contact, even through the trousers, was enough to send shivers up his spine. His hands quivered, and he touched himself through the denim again, tracing his fingertips lightly over the firm outline of his cock in his pants.

Making sure the shower was still running, Harry unzipped the trousers and reached inside, gently easing out his arousal and taking it into his palm. He pumped his hand up and down, eyes closing so he could stare at that pale chest on the back of his eyelids. This was sick, it was wrong that he was here masturbating to the thought of Draco, and he felt his breath hitch as another shudder went through him at the touch of his thumb to the head of his erection. His left hand slipped up his body, tweaking his nipples through his shirt, and he slid it down further to slide two fingers under his balls, pressing on his taint and massaging it luxuriously as his right hand bobbed in time. His pink tongue slid over his lips to keep him from moaning aloud. His heels dug into the mattress, and he arched his back, mouth open and panting.

He moved his left fingers up to swipe at the pre-ejaculate gathering on the end of his cock, and he used it as lubrication to push his index finger deep within himself, searching for his prostate that he had so accidentally discovered one afternoon. “Ah...” He found it and rubbed it fiercely, feeling his balls begin to tighten, and just as he sat up and bit his lip, shooting pearly streams of come across the bed, he heard the shower kick off. Scrambling, he grabbed his wand and eliminated the mess before zipping himself up and lying back down again, trying not to look so flustered. 

Draco came back into the room dressed in a robe, taking the time to brush his hair and make it look decent before he looked over to Harry and sighed deeply. “Sorry about getting so emotional,” he whispered, and he sat down heavily at the foot of the bed. “Malfoys don’t cry, after all... But... I don’t know if I can even call myself a Malfoy anymore. I’m.. .a nobody.” He hung his head and interested himself with trying to find faces in the grain of the wooden floor.

“That’s not true. You’re... uh... You’re Draco, and that means something. Come on... Let’s go to lunch. Whaddaya say?” Harry got up to find some decent clothes for Draco to put on, and he handed them to him. “There... We’ll go eat, and if you still feel pretty bad after food, we’ll skip classes today.” He smiled as Draco nodded and accepted the clothes.

 

“McGonagall was out of line, kicking you out for that,” Hermione observed as they sat together at lunch, devouring soup and sandwiches. “She must be in a bad mood or something... It was very out of character for her to do that.” Hermione took a large bite of her sandwich.

“What exactly did we get kicked out for?” Draco inquired, enjoying his tomato soup. He took a loud, undignified slurp from his spoon and sighed happily at the warmth flooding through him. Harry reached into the pockets of his robes and withdrew the shred of parchment Draco had been drawing on and handed it to him, blushing terribly and refusing to look over to him. “I didn’t draw this,” Draco snorted, his cheeks notably red as well, and he pushed the sketch over to Harry, where it was promptly snatched up by Hermione.

“I’ll take that. I like them,” she claimed, ignoring the nasty glare Draco shot her. In ignoring this, she did not notice his eyes unfocus, so when Draco jerked back and fell onto the floor, scrambling to backward from Harry, it was a total surprise. “...Draco?”

“Get away from me,” Draco mumbled, his eyes wild and darting back and forth. The scene had already drawn the eyes of many students in the Hall, and Harry turned to stare at him. “Don’t look at me... Don’t touch me... FUCK!” He leapt to his feet and looked around desperately, hyperventilating before he started to run for the doors to the Entrance Hall. Harry leapt to his feet and tore after him, ignoring the expressions of shock from his peers and teachers.

He caught up to Draco in the corridor and grabbed him from behind, flipping him around and clutching him to his chest as Draco clung to him and trembled, “He’ll get you too, Harry, he’ll get you too!” he insisted in a panic, and as though he saw something behind Harry, he jerked away again and cried, “ _Get me away from him_!” The force of his leap away sent him flying onto his arse, and he slid a metre on the floor before he threw his head back and screamed as though being murdered. When Harry grabbed him again, Draco’s fingernails sank into the flesh of his shoulders through his robes, and he shook his head, sobbing. “He’ll get you, too... Fuck, fuck, he’s going to kill me...”

“Calm down, Draco,” Harry whispered desperately, not noticing that they had drawn quite the crowd of spectators. “No one’s here... It’s just you and me...” And the at least two hundred other people, but they did not seem to be visible to Draco as he whimpered into Harry’s neck and shook his head. “Shh...”

“Is he all right, Potter?” McGonagall asked as she and Snape strode up to them. “Perhaps you should take him back to the dormitory, or even outside for some fresh air?” She could see tears of frustration welling up in Harry’s eyes, and she shooed the crowd away to give them some air. “Go on...”

Harry nodded and hefted Malfoy into his arms, ignoring the earsplitting screams that Draco was emitting. By the time they were back in the tower, Draco had either fallen silent or deafened Harry, though he suspected the former, and he lay Draco down on the bed before removing his own robes and shirt to inspect the bloody half-moons in his shoulders. “Goddamn...” He flopped down on the bed and sighed as Draco eased into his lap, face burying against his neck, and he felt hot tears. “Calm down,” he whispered for what he felt like was the billionth time that day. “You’re all right, Draco, don’t cry like this…” His voice was soft, as was the grip he had on Draco’s shoulders. “Hush now.”  
The feeling of Draco relaxing against him made him breathe a sigh of relief, and as Draco shuddered, he stroked that silky hair and closed his eyes; however, the presence of a very different warmth against his neck made his eyes fly wide open, and his hands gripped tightly to those thin shoulders as he felt what was, unmistakeably, Draco’s tongue sliding along his flesh. His breath caught in his throat and, for a few moments, he dared not move for fear of what might happen. One of Draco’s hands moved up to cup his cheek, and he gave a strangled swallow before whispering, “D-Draco?” His eyes squeezed closed as the tongue withdrew, though it was soon replaced with Draco’s lips, and he found his breath becoming more and more difficult to draw as those lips suckled his skin. “What... What are you doing? Stop...” His resolve was not evident in his tone. To his horror, a little moan escaped his lips, but, to his shock, Draco did not snicker at him or anything of the sort at all. He instead moved to suckle at Harry’s collarbone. By this time, Harry was thoroughly confused, and he tried to shove Draco away. “Quit it!” he growled. This got the Slytherin’s attention, and the familiar grey gaze rose to meet his.

It was Draco—the real Draco. “What the hell, Malfoy?!” Harry squeaked, trying his best not to sputter and choke. His pants were unbelievably tight at the moment, and he pushed Draco back a little, finding it impossible to breathe.

Draco smirked, his cheeks slightly flushed as well, and he pushed his hair back, looking slightly self-conscious. “Just cleaning up...” This statement nearly made Harry’s head explode, and he shifted uncomfortably before standing to his feet and glaring at Draco.

“You’re sick,” Harry hissed, shoving the Slytherin away and rolling off the bed. “I don’t know who you think you are, but… but you just can’t do that!” His voice, which had been strong, was beginning to weaken at the end of his protest, and now he felt miserable. “Don’t I have enough to deal with? The least you could do…” He broke off and shook his head quite violently. “ _Forget it_. You know what? I don’t care anymore. Find someone else to burden!”

With that, he stormed out of Gryffindor Tower, leaving a very confused Draco in his wake.


	8. Misunderstandings

* * *

Harry raged through the common room, silent save for the low growling in his chest as he stomped through and slammed the portrait behind him on his way down the Tower. His fists clenched painfully at his sides as he fought with himself internally, feeling one side wanting to turn around and flee back up the stairs to throw Draco down on the mattress to ravage him. The other side, however, was proving to be stronger in its resolve to get away from what made him uncomfortable with himself, and that side was stamping his feet on the cobblestone floors all the way to Dumbledore’s office.

It was raining out. The wind was whipping the rain against the windowpanes, so forceful that the windows were straining to come loose. Nevertheless, Harry could hear his heart pounding, could hear his breaths—short and quick, panicked—heating the air before him. That was the real Draco kissing him like that, kissing him without even asking or stopping to think about what Harry might think of it! What could he have been thinking?! If this was the way things were going to be now, Harry could not do this. He needed a break, even if just for a day, but the thought of Draco coming back to do _that_ , the thing he knew he secretly desired but never, ever thought would ever happen, made him sick to his stomach. “I can’t do this; I can’t do this,” he panted to himself as he began to jog down the corridors to the gargoyle.

Draco felt like committing suicide as he saw Harry flee. What had he been thinking? There was no way in hell Harry would have wanted that, and when confronted with what he was doing, Draco had panicked, had become snarky, had fucked it up royally. Groaning, Draco snatched Harry’s pillow and buried his face into the softness, Harry’s scent floating all around him, and he hated himself for the tears he felt sting his eyes. He had it all wrong, he took Harry’s kindness and sense of responsibility for fondness, for genuine caring, but Harry was just being nice, helpful, and now he would never be any of that. Draco decided that he should not care, that it was not even his fault—it was his damned disorder—and that he could forget it ever happened.

Why did he feel so rejected? He yelled into Harry’s pillow and punched the bed, not caring that he was soaking the pillow in his stupid tears.

Harry stood at the gargoyle for a full half-hour, screaming all types of candies at it before it finally gave way at the mention of Licorice Wands, and as the stair opened for him, he hurried up. The half hour he stood there, he became only angrier at himself for letting it go this far and at Draco for being so presumptuous. He had forgotten that, not that long ago, he had been writhing on his bed at the thought of Draco—that was irrelevant—and he made sure that memory was not in his mind as he burst into the Headmaster’s office without knocking. “Ah, Harry, I was expecting you. I heard you accosting my gargoyle—I thought Licorice Wands were pretty standard fare for students!” he exclaimed cheerfully, and he waved to the chair before his desk. “Do you fancy a biscuit? Or are there more pressing matters?”

“I can’t do this, Professor,” Harry spat out nastily as he threw himself into the chair. “I need... I don’t know, I need a break, time to myself... Someone else needs to take care of him! I’m not even suited for this! I’m not doing anything for him; fuck, I’m making it worse!” He slammed his hands down on the front of Dumbledore’s desk, shaking now with the thoughts that were swimming through him. Where would that encounter have gone if he had not stopped Draco? Would they be kissing now, tangled in one another on the bed? No, no, no!

Dumbledore laced his fingers beneath his chin and watched Harry’s struggle with himself, watching him as he tugged at his own hair, squirmed, lost himself in thoughts, and he smiled. “I think a break can be arranged, Harry, don’t be so concerned, but if you are looking for a permanent break from Mister Malfoy... Harry, it would be a terrible shame to lose him. Has he not proved himself to be, even in his current state, pleasant company? I have not been blind to the bond formed between you even in this short time...Professor Snape has been very, ah, disciplined about watching you and reporting back to me every small detail, I’m afraid.” He sounded very disappointed, and he leaned back a bit. “I suppose I have been proven wrong several times in the recent past, but seeing you give up this challenge so quickly... I confess myself shocked.”

Harry stared at him, dumbfounded that he could say such a thing, and he shot back, “You don’t know what it’s like, not knowing which Draco you’re talking to, not knowing if you’ll even be talking to the same person in ten seconds! I can’t deal with this all the time. I can’t deal with being forced to watch him suffer like this, every day waking up as someone different. When it IS Draco, I don’t even know how to act around him, I—” He cut himself off with a heavy sigh, and he hid his face in his hands. “Please?”

Albus sighed and took a moment to gaze out the window. “I will see to it that you have some alone time, Harry, and while you have it, I suggest that you take the time to think about how Draco feels. I believe he is in dire need of a Pensieve with all those people in his mind, crowding him into a corner... Luckily, you’re the expert on getting yourself out of corners,” he mused, and when Harry sank lower into his chair, he heaved another sigh. “He’ll be gone by tonight.”

When Harry returned to the common room that evening—he had taken time to himself so that he would not have to endure seeing Draco plead to stay—he was met with congratulations and pats on the back. “Good job, mate,” Ron laughed, and he threw his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “You did the right thing... We’ve hardly had any time for.. .anything! We’ll fly every day this week!” Harry gave him a weak smile and nodded; he could not help but feel like an arse, and seeing Hermione glowering at him did nothing to ease the feeling.

As he made to pass her, feeling exhausted, she grabbed him by the sleeve and tugged him close to her. “Listen to me, Harry James Potter,” she growled, looking more dangerous by the moment. “You can leave Draco to drown in himself and simply watch, but I will not stand by you while you do it. I thought you were more _mature_ than this! Are you still so caught up on... on childish anger that you can’t see that he needs _your help_?!” Her voice was rising as she spoke, silencing the rest of the common room as they all turned to listen.

“Damn it, Hermione!” Harry snapped, feeling himself on the brink on an explosion. “You think you know everything, don’t you!? You think you know what happened in there? How the fuck could you have any inkling what I’m going though?! You have a perfect fucking life with a perfect boyfriend and a perfect family and everything just works out for you in the fucking end, doesn’t it?!” He could hear Ron advancing on him, ready to defend his girlfriend, and he took a step back from her, voice amplifying to such an extent that he could hear it echoing up the staircases. “So you‘ve been called a FUCKING Mudblood; well, BLOODY HELL, I’m shocked you’re not still crying over that one! You have NO CLUE WHAT I’M GOING THROUGH, so SHUT YOUR DAMNED MOUTH!”

Everyone in the common room was staring at the pair, eyes wide in shock as Hermione threw her hand back and slapped Harry across the face. “You... You insensitive _prat_!” she growled, tears dribbling from her eyes and dripping from her chin. Ron made his way over to her and started to reach for her, but she pushed him away. “NO, Ron! Harry, how do you think Draco feels? He can remember what happened! You can’t even remember Lily getting killed, but Draco... Do you even know how they found them?!” She leaned in close and, shaking, whispered, “They found him covered in her blood, trying to resuscitate her even though half her head was gone!” She gave him a nasty shove backwards and shook her head in disgust, gathering her things quickly. “You know why he came to you, Harry? Because of everything else in his life, YOU were consistent! You’d always be the same, and BY GOD, he was right! You’re still the insensitive shit you were seven years ago!”

Harry stared after her as she stomped up to the dormitory, ignoring the nasty glares he was receiving from Ron, and he moved to head upstairs himself, cheek aching. He had never considered Draco’s situation like that, thought about what the scene must have looked like when Narcissa killed herself before Draco. He could nearly hear Draco’s knees hitting the floor, see the tears flood his cheeks as he realised that he would never speak to his mother again, feel the desperation as Draco attempted to bring her back to life regardless of the fact that her brain was oozing out of her skull. He felt sick, he hated himself; he wanted to cry. “What have I done...?”

The next morning at breakfast, Harry tried not to make eye contact with Draco, who was seated with a very grumpy Terry Boot at the Ravenclaw table. He wondered why no one in Slytherin had offered, then he looked over to Slytherin to see Pansy Parkinson mimicking Draco’s panic attacks and he understood. Draco was staring at him, looking betrayed and hurt as he picked at his bacon and sausages and occasionally shot Boot a nasty glare. He looked exhausted—Harry suspected that he had not slept at all the night before—and when he glanced up at Harry, he put his fork down and put his head on his arms on the table. Boot rolled his eyes and shot a nasty look to Harry before he got up and went to the Head table. It was no small wonder that Draco was with someone different that afternoon.

Harry had had an entire day to himself by the time dinner rolled around, and even though most of his housemates were thrilled and trying to engage him in their activities, Ron and Hermione were angry with him, and he was miserable. He sat down at his table to find Draco sitting by himself at the end of the Hufflepuff table, appearing shaky and ill as he poked at his mashed potatoes. Harry sighed and was just about to get up and sit with him when Draco froze and, a second later, looked around wildly in a panic. “ _Get away from me_!” he screeched in to the Great Hall, causing a silence to fall over all the students, and they all stared at him as he pushed back from the table and scrambled back against one of the walls. “ _I have nothing more to give you! I... I-I-_ ” He cut himself off with an earsplitting scream, looked around again, then his eyes locked on Harry, who was rising from his seat and beginning to move after him. “ _He won’t stop until he’s killed both of us_!” This scream caused the Great Hall’s attention to swivel to Harry, who sighed and ignored the fact that Snape and Dumbledore were making their way towards Draco to hurry to him himself and take him by the wrist.

“Come on,” he said quietly, not even slightly embarrassed as the touch caused Draco to burst into tears and collapse against him, and he shook his head at his professors before he escorted him out of the Great Hall and over to the staircase. He sat down with him and heaved a heavy sigh as Draco clung to his middle, shaking and sick. They sat in silence until Harry felt Draco give a nasty jolt, and he looked down to him to find the real Draco swiping the tears from his eyes and wiping his nose on his sleeve. “You all right now?”

“FUCK you, Potter!” Draco yelled, moving away from him and wrapping his arms around his knees, shivering. “What the FUCK did I do to deserve being abandoned like that!? Do you know what I WENT through last night?! I didn’t get any sleep—I was having panic attacks all goddamned night, and all the fucking Ravenclaws were screaming at me for it and... just... What the FUCK, Potter?!” He was beginning to cry again, his eyes welling up with tears and his cheeks flushing, and he buried his face in his knees to sob very audibly.

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed before saying, “You freaked me out, okay? What was I supposed to think? What would you have done if I did that to you?! I needed a break, time to think about things, okay? You were kissing me, Malfoy! I feel completely justified in freaking out!”

“I th-thought you wanted me to!” Draco stuttered from his knees, voice muffled by his trousers, and he shook his head. Harry looked at him in a state of shock and blinked dumbly, incapable of speaking all of a sudden, and he sighed as Draco lifted his head and swiped angrily at his tears. “Fine. I’ll give you your goddamned time to think! I’ll... I’ll stay in the Hospital Wi—”

As Draco was mouthing off and beginning to stand, Harry grabbed his wrist and shook his head. “No, you won’t stay in the Hospital Wing,” he sighed, and slowly, he pulled Draco back down onto the stair. “You can stay with me, but... no more of, you know, that.” He cursed himself for blushing, but Draco did not seem to notice, instead burying his face in his hands. Okay?” Harry asked tentatively, and when Draco nodded, shoulders shaking, he slipped an arm around Draco’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “All right then. Let’s go finish dinner, and we’ll... Malfoy?” He found himself smiling just a little as Draco leaned heavily against him, eyes closed and mouth slack. “Let’s get you to bed...”


	9. Chilly

* * *

To Harry’s surprise, Draco was very different during the next three weeks. They attended all their classes together, did their homework together, and that seemed to be it. Draco was giving Harry his time to think, and even his other personalities seemed to be upset with Harry over the situation, so they stayed away with the exception of the quiet one, and he would only hold Harry’s hand and sit with him. It was quiet all the time, and Harry was highly enjoying this new leaf the Dracos had turned.

His housemates, on the other hand, were not so happy about the development. Dean and Neville did not seem to mind so much, but Ron and Seamus were livid that Draco had come back to stay. “You just need to make up your damned mind, Ron!” Harry snapped at him one evening as they were arguing about it. “First you’re pissed because Hermione told you to be pissed that Draco was gone, and I bring him back and you go apeshit! Get over yourself!” Hermione smiled at him for that one, but he did not return the sentiment—Harry was still angry with her—and instead slammed back up to the dormitory where Draco was sleeping.

The first Quidditch match of the year came, Ravenclaw vs.Slytherin, and Draco insisted on going. It was a chilly Saturday morning when they got up and bundled up in their scarves and hats, Draco’s green and silver and Harry’s supporting Ravenclaw, and they went down to the pitch to get a good seat. Many students were already there, the Ravenclaw supporters on one side of the stadium and Slytherin’s on the other side, but Harry and Draco straddled the line between the two, settling down in their seats before the game began. “Are you cold?” Harry asked, watching as Draco blew into his hands.

“Just a bit,” Draco said amicably, and he resumed warming his hands with his breath before Harry reached over and took one, lacing their fingers and causing an oppressive silence to fall between them. “Er...” Draco found himself blushing, but a strong wind blew coldly over them, and he found himself leaning into Harry a bit, fingers clenching his in a desperate attempt to get warmer.

Harry smiled a little, cheeks flushed with either excitement or cold, and he rubbed his thumb over the side of Draco’s index finger. He had been thinking about Draco these past three weeks, about how sick he was and about how he was such good company even when he was angry with him, and he had been wondering what would happen if Draco kissed him again. He was loathe to admit it to himself at first, but the feeling had not been terrible at all, and even then, with only their hands joined, he felt funny in his stomach. He wondered how Draco felt about all this, but he suspected he felt strange about it, too, as he leaned into Harry’s shoulder with the wind. “You know,” Harry said with a wicked grin, “Slytherin’s going down today.”

“As if, Potter!” Draco snorted, and he shook his head. “Ravenclaw’s weak this year. The new seeker is pathetic, and... Hello, Granger.” Hermione had found the two of them and grinned as she saw Harry, who blushed a little and looked ahead. “Are you going to sit with us? I don’t know how I feel about sitting with a Mudblood...”

“Shove it, Malfoy,” she quipped good-naturedly, and she pulled a large woolen blanket from her knapsack. “I saw you leave without a good blanket, and it’s really cold out, so...” She unfolded it and grinned at the horrid look on Draco’s face at the sight of it being charmed Ravenclaw colours. “You’ll deal, Malfoy, or you’ll freeze. I don’t think anyone doubts where your loyalties lie.” She tossed it over their laps and sat beside Harry, taking some of the blanket for herself. “Harry, I’m sorry.”

He sighed and arranged the blanket over he and Draco before looking at her with sad eyes. “I’m... I’m sorry, too. I was just angry, and... well, you get the idea.” He smiled a little as she threw her arms around him, and he patted her back awkwardly as she cupped her hands around his ear.

“I saw your hands, Harry. What’s going on? That’s not something I normally see you do,” she hissed so that Draco, who was trying to get close to hear, was not in earshot. She smiled as Harry’s cheeks flushed a dark red and he glared at her in embarrassment. “I see, I see,” she laughed, and she turned to greet Ron as he came toward them. Harry chose not to speak to Ron at all, instead secretly laying his hand on Draco’s knee.

Draco swallowed hard at the feel of Harry’s warm palm beneath the blanket, and he looked at him awkwardly in search of an explanation, any explanation as to why he was touching him, but Harry only smiled lightly and glanced at him. Draco flushed and looked over into the Slytherin stand, seeing Pansy staring at him strangely, and when she realised he was looking at her, she immediately launched into a silent mockery of him, thrashing around and pulling her hair. Draco felt something thick in the back of his throat, and he clenched Harry’s hand so suddenly that Harry started and looked at him in bewilderment, before seeing Pansy Parkinson laughing like mad beyond him. He drew his wand with his right hand and pointed it at her just over the top of the blanket before murmuring the Jelly-Legs curse, and when it hit her and caused her to fall like a tonne of bricks to the floor, he laughed nastily and gave Draco’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks,” Draco whispered, looking up into Harry’s eyes from his leaning place on his shoulder.

The match began quickly, Hooch throwing the ball high in the air and blowing her whistle. Both teams began zooming around the field, but Harry just could not get into the game like Draco had. Draco was screaming at the players, cursing calls, and when Slytherin scored twice in a row, Harry thought that he was going to have a heart attack of happiness. Harry found that he was not paying much attention to the game at all, in fact, and caught himself countless times watching Draco’s reactions to it instead. Their hands never parted until Slytherin scored their sixth goal, and Draco, without thinking, threw his arms around Harry and laughed raucously along with his former housemates.

Ron and Hermione stared wide-eyed as Harry’s arms slipped around Draco’s waist, and Ron quickly diverted his gaze back to the game as Ravenclaw counter-scored and the stands roared from both sides. Hermione’s attention was caught as well, and the Ravenclaw side stood up and began taunting the Slytherins nastily while the Slytherins stood as well and screamed right back at them. Only Harry and Draco remained seated, and Draco seemed to have lost all attention on the game when Harry’s arms encircled him, and they were staring at one another with a mix of bewilderment and inner torment. Harry bit his lip momentarily before he moved to be a little closer to Draco, gazing into his eyes, and he could feel Draco’s pulse racing as he began to lean in to...

Be knocked over by Hermione, whom Ron had fallen into. Harry and Draco fell apart and yelped as they both hit the ground along with the other two Gryffindors, who were laughing hysterically. Hermione caught Harry’s eye, and Harry was sure he caught a gleam of something there, and he blushed before scrambling back up onto the seat and helping Draco up. They dared not touch for the rest of the game.

“Harry we need to talk privately,” Hermione said as they headed back from dinner that evening. The game had left a nasty taste in Draco’s mouth (Slytherin lost 260-80), so he had skipped dinner, but Ron scowled at his girlfriend and walked ahead of them, getting out of earshot. Hermione sighed after him and shook her head. “Harry, what was going on today?” she asked in a half-whisper, looking up at him with one eyebrow cocked.

He fidgeted uncomfortably and made sure Ron was far enough ahead that he could not hear them before he shrugged a little. “I er... don’t know what you’re talking about, Hermione,” he murmured, flinching as she swiped his shoulder. “Okay, fine. I don’t know, okay? I mean... Draco, uh... kissed me a few weeks ag—”

“He did what?!” Hermione hissed, and she stopped walking altogether, pulling Harry to the wall so people could pass. “Is that why you had Dumbledore take him away?” When Harry nodded sheepishly, she threw up her hands in frustration and shook her head. “Harry, it would be taking advantage of Draco when he’s like this... Besides, you aren’t gay!” She paused for a few moments, then, “Are you?”

“No!” Harry exclaimed, insulted, and he looked away for a few moments before he sighed and diverted his gaze to the floor. “I was just caught up in the moment, okay? It was cold and he was letting himself go for the first time since we’ve been staying together, and... maybe it was just the Quidditch. You knocked us over on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did! Do you know what would have happened if Ron and everybody else saw you kissing Malfoy during a Quidditch game? Or any other time, for that matter?!” She sighed as Harry hung his head and sighed with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Harry... I understand what’s going on. You’re together all the time, you sleep in the same bed, he’s vulnerable and in need... you can’t stand it, Harry, can you? He’s so miserable all the time that you think you can make it better by really making things a lot worse for the two of you, don’t you?”

He stared at her and swallowed thickly before shaking his head. “I don’t pity-date, Hermione,” he said quietly, and he rubbed his arm self-consciously. “It was a fluke. I can’t even imagine kissing him—it’s disgusting.” And yet, he was imagining it right then, imagining them kissing at the Quidditch game with all the hustle and bustle around them, imagining Draco clutching him needily and kissing him as though he had nothing to lose. Harry gulped again and avoided Hermione’s gaze, knowing that she would see the imaginary kiss in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, all right?”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding her head. “Fine, Harry...Just be careful?” She was not satisfied with the nod she received.

Draco was already half-asleep by the time Harry came back to the dormitory, and when the drapes of the four-poster opened, he shielded his eyes from the light. “Are you in bed already?” Harry asked, and he smirked as Draco threw a pillow into his gut. “Well, I’m going downstairs to work on Charms, which you need to do as well, so if you feel like coming down, I’ll be by the fireplace.” He smiled and closed the drapes on the bed again before leaving the dormitory with his Charms text and settling before the fire in the common room.

 

Harry’s Charms work went a lot quicker than expected, and he settled by himself on the couch, leaning back into the cushions and pulling a very Gryffindor-esque quilt over himself.   
Leaning back and closing his eyes, he listened to the idle banter amongst the younger years in the common room, and he went back to a time when the worst he had to worry about was whether Snape was going to dock extra points. Now, it was all about his ex-arch rival, all about making Draco better, and though he knew he should be upset about that, he was not so much anymore.

He smiled a little, eyes closed and every part of him utterly relaxed, and when he felt cool hands lift the blanket and a warm, lithe body press against him, his eyes did not even open. “Change your mind?” he whispered, and a smile lit his cheeks as Draco tucked his head against Harry’s shoulder. Harry’s arm slid around him, and he pulled Draco a little closer, his’s knees resting in Harry’s lap, and he found Draco’s hand with his own.

“I wasn’t tired anymore... not really,” Draco admitted, and he blushed a little before he glanced up at Harry. “At the game today, what were we doing?” This question was much quieter than his last statement, and he shifted uncomfortably in his place at Harry’s side. The silence after his inquiry stretched out very long, and he began to feel severely out of place, but just as he was getting up to hide from Harry forever, Harry caught him and pulled him back, flushed.

“Does it matter? I mean... we’ll see.” Harry smiled softly and Draco settled back down against him, the blanket tucked warmly about them.


	10. Caution

* * *

Draco could not breathe. He was naked, thrown hard up against a cold dungeon wall that cut grooves into his back and sent drops of green slime oozing down the length of his spine and sliding down his legs. Gooseflesh had risen all over him, the hair on his arms and legs sticking straight out in a desperate attempt for warmth, but when it came, Draco struggled against his shackles and yelled with the futile hope that someone, anyone would hear. A cold hand slapped over his mouth, tasting of blood and grime, and Draco gagged as cool lips pressed to his neck, a hand forced his head to the side so that sharp teeth could graze the thin, pale flesh flecked with dungeon filth. Draco tugged against his shackles again, as though one more time would save him.

“Now, now,” his captor whispered in his ear, breath warm and vile, “Draco, I’m coming to suspect that you are uncomfortable? You’re going to damage your pretty little wrists like that, and I certainly don’t want that... They’ll be holding you up later.” Draco felt bile creeping up his throat, and he kicked out at the other man. “So feisty...” He delivered a strong punch to Draco’s gut, stepping back as the impact forced the vomit that was already filling Draco’s esophagus to spray from Draco’s lips. “Aw, baby’s got a stomachache...”

Draco gave a horrible, wet cough, and yelped as he was slapped in the face. “What do you want from me?!” he screamed, tears streaming down his face, and when his captor jerked him by the hair, he gave a sob and prepared himself for the inevitable punch to the jaw.

“I want to fuck you, Draco,” The voice came harsh and gritty, and Draco squeezed his eyes shut as he found himself forced around, his shoulders ripped from their sockets, and he pressed his face against the grimy wall whilst trying to think of a better place. By the time he was violated, without any aid whatsoever, he was no longer there.

Draco sat up suddenly in bed with a strangled yelp and a terrible start. He found himself trembling and pouring cold sweat, and when he felt someone move beside him, he jerked and nearly fainted. Hands searched all over the blanket, trying to figure out where he was, and when his hand touched someone else’s, he squeaked in terror and looked for a way out.

Harry’s eyes opened when Draco touched him, and he felt Draco thrashing, panicking, and he sat up to take him by the shoulders. “Draco, Draco,” he whispered softly, feeling Draco struggling against his grip, and he forcefully pulled him in close. “It’s Harry. Shh... Bollocks, you’re soaking wet.” He felt Draco freeze up for a moment, and while he thought Draco’s personalities had switched, when Draco collapsed against him and quivered, Harry strongly suspected it was still the actual Draco. Harry grabbed his wand and cast a Silencing Charm on the bed so Draco would not wake up the other sleepers, and he murmured, “ _Lumos_!” so he might see his companion. “It’s all right... You were having nightmares...”

Draco pressed himself into Harry’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck, gulping and shuddering as he struggled to get closer. A warm hand threaded through his hair, sliding down to the back of his neck and giving it a massaging squeeze, and Draco heaved a heavy sob against Harry’s collarbone. “F-fuck,” he choked, and he allowed himself to weep against Harry’s neck until the other pushed him back a little and cupped his cheek.

“Let’s get you into some dry pyjamas, okay?” Harry asked, and when Draco shakily nodded, Harry disappeared for a moment outside the bed before returning with a warm pair of flannel trousers. “You don’t have another shirt, I’m afraid...” He reached out and unbuttoned Draco’s shirt, sliding it from his shoulders in the dark, and he tossed it carelessly out of the bed curtains before gesturing to Draco’s trousers. “I’ll let you take care of that,” he whispered, and he smiled a little as Draco slipped out of the bed, trousers in hand, and he returned a few moments later in new trousers and a new pair of boxers peeking over the waistband. “There you are...” He waved his wand to dry Draco’s side of the bed, not envying his night sweats, and he made sure the drapes on the bed were shut tight before he reached out to pull Draco close. “...Are you all right?”

Draco wiped the remnants of tears from his cheeks before shakily pressing himself against Harry, allowing him to lie down and pull him onto his chest. He rested his cheek in the hollow of Harry’s shoulder, his arm lying across his stomach and his legs tangled with the other’s, and nodded. “I-I think so. I didn’t mean to wake you up; I was panicking, and I... I...” His eyes slipped closed and he fell silent as he felt Harry kissing the roots of his sweaty hair, and he sought out Harry’s other hand beneath the blanket. Upon finding it, he laced their fingers almost roughly and clung to him, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling of Harry doing such a thing.

“It’s okay,” Harry claimed softly in the dark, letting his wand extinguish and tucking it beneath his pillow before he released Draco’s hand to wrap both arms strongly about him. “You shouldn’t apologise for something you have no control over, Draco.” He squeezed Draco before untangling their legs and rolling onto his side so he could face him, and he lifted a hand to brush a string of hair from his cheek. “What were your nightmares?”

Draco’s eyes widened slightly at Harry moving so they were facing each other so closely, and at the question, he looked down at the mattress. “I was, er, locked up in a dungeon and... and...” He shook his head insistently before looking Harry in the eyes. “M-memories that are best left alone...” He saw the look of horror in Harry’s expression even in the dark, and he squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see it. “Don’t...”

Harry was faced with a dilemma—should he press Draco about it or not? The sight of Draco with his eyes slammed shut in an attempt to forget suggested that he should leave it for now, and he reached out to brush his cheek. “I won’t,” he whispered, and he smiled as Draco nodded and moved up to rest his head on the pillow. His hand slid over to rub the curve of Draco’s bare side, feeling the ribs beneath the skin with his fingertips, and he blushed as Draco slid a hair closer to him at the contact. His rough palm slid over Draco’s side and onto his back, fingering his spine from his lower back to his shoulders, and when Draco shuddered, Harry leaned in close to touch the tips of their noses, and their stomachs came flush together by default.

Draco’s nightmare rushed to the back of his memory as Harry pressed so close, and he brought one hand up to Harry’s chest in case he found he might like to push him away, but his other hand slid down to cup Harry’s sharp hip, and when Harry’s hand moved into his hair to cradle the back of his head, he opened his eyes and looked into his companion’s. He could taste Harry’s breath on his own lips, and it seemed that they lay there for eons holding each other before Harry closed the gap between them and brushed a kiss very softly along Draco’s lower lip. The touch was so light that Draco wondered if he had imagined it, but there it was again, and he felt his heart rate double when Harry took that lip between his own and suckled it gently. “Mmmn...” Draco fought his body for control, wanting to throw himself into the kiss and shove his tongue down Harry’s throat, but he managed to stave it off and merely leaned closer, crushing their lips together and wrapping his arms tightly about Harry as he opened his mouth against him. He felt Harry’s tongue brush his, and he met it with his own, whimpering at the warmth it provided. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck rose, and when they parted for air, Draco’s eyes opened and he stared into the eyes before him with bated breath. 

Harry could not believe he had just kissed Draco Malfoy and the world had not come to an end—Ron was still snoring, Neville was still mumbling in his sleep, and his own heart was still pounding in his chest. Thus, he did the only logical thing he could think of: he leaned in and kissed Draco again, though this time it was much softer and shorter. He wanted to do this slowly, wanted to give himself time to really enjoy this, so when the second kiss ended, he pulled Draco to his chest and squeezed him. “Go back to sleep, Draco...”

“But—”

“Shh. We’ll talk in the morning...”

After extremely pleasant dreams the rest of the night, Harry woke early the next morning and, without opening his eyes, reached over to Draco’s side of the bed to draw him close, only to contact cool sheets. He grunted and slid one eye open to find the bed otherwise empty, the drapes thrown open, and he sat up to run his hand through his hair and sigh. “Draco?” he called quietly, and he received no response. Groaning, he slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom, only to be met by Neville at the door. “You seen Malfoy?”

Neville nodded grimly. “Yeah, he’s pretty sick. He’s been throwing up all morning,” he said with a disgusted shudder, and he stepped aside so Harry could pass into the bathroom. “It’s not _Draco_ -Draco though... Sounds like a kid.”

Harry groaned again and moved into the bathroom, seeing Draco’s feet extending from beneath one of the stalls. “Hey,” he whispered as he opened the door and sat down on the floor beside him, who was resting his cheek on the toilet seat and clutching his arms around his stomach. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t feel good,” came Draco’s child persona, and he whimpered as Harry pulled him in against his chest. “Woke up this morning and Dwaco was so tired so I came out instead and... and I don’t wanna frow up again...” Tears rose to his eyes and he reached out to grab the toilet bowl, leaning over it and dry heaving for a moment before he sank back against Harry’s chest. “I think Dwaco wants to come out to see you, Hawwy,” he whispered, and he closed his eyes.

Harry was suddenly very conscious of his bedraggled state—he had not brushed his teeth or anything—, but when Draco came to and looked sickly into his eyes, he melted. “Good morning,” he whispered, and he found himself flushing a little as Draco’s arms slithered around him there on the bathroom floor. He leaned up against the door of the stall and held Draco until his stomach calmed down a little, his hand rubbing in small circles just above Draco’s bellybutton. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A bit,” Draco rasped, voice harsh from vomiting, and he covered his mouth with his hand. “I really, really need a toothbrush, but I don’t want to get it and I don’t want you to move...” He slid his other hand down to rest on top of the one on his stomach that was rubbing therapeutically, and he moved it to a more ideal location three inches north. “There... Mmm... I think I need to visit Pomfrey today. I have a fever.”

“Poor thing,” Harry mocked gently, and he relaxed against the door, finding a more comfortable position for the both of them before he resumed massaging. “I’ll take you down when you feel up to moving around more, but for now, do you want to stay here or go back to bed?” He felt Draco nod at the latter, and he helped him to his feet, giving the toilet a final flush before assisting Draco back to the dorm room.

Draco crawled into the bed and drew the blankets up to his chin, peeking over the edge to smile a little at his caretaker. “So... when will we talk about what happened?” he inquired in whisper, and he felt slightly flustered as Harry looked around to make sure no one was watching before leaning down to kiss Draco’s sweaty forehead.

“Not now...Now you sleep.”


	11. Pitch

* * *

Harry and Draco did not get the chance to talk when Draco woke from his nap—Draco woke whilst Harry was carrying him to the Hospital Wing. “Wh-what?” Draco managed, tucking his head into Harry’s shoulder as a wave of heat passed over him. “Oh, God...” His voice was small and weak, and he choked a little before he grabbed onto Harry’s shoulder and whimpered until he was hurried into the sterile room and placed on one of the beds.

“Madam Pomfrey?!” Harry called, and Draco noted blearily that there was blood on Harry’s shirt. He lifted a pale hand to his mouth and drew it back to find his skin stained crimson, and he felt his eyes roll back in his head before he fainted dead away onto the pillow. “Oh, please,” Harry mumbled before he was met with the mediwitch, and he gestured to Draco’s unconscious form. “He started coughing up blood in his sleep. He’s got a really high fever, I think, and he was throwing up all morning...” The worry returned to his stomach, and he hurried to sit down on Draco’s bedside, lightheaded.

Pomfrey gave a nod and began to work on Draco, performing spells and opening his mouth to look down his throat. “How is his recovery going, Harry? I must confess myself disappointed that you did not come immediately to me for information on his affliction, but there was nothing I could do about it, I suppose...” She muttered the _Lumos_ spell and peered down Draco’s throat with it. “You said he was vomiting? His throat is very irritated from whatever he threw up, so the blood is just a response to that.” She smiled and waved a healing spell over him, and Draco shifted in his sleep. “There, no more blood.”

As Harry watched her bustle over to the various potions she kept on a shelf, he felt himself blush a little at her earlier statement. “I don’t think he’s recovering at all, but Dumbledore seems to think otherwise. I mean, at least he’s Draco sometimes, and not just...someone else. He’s been Draco a lot lately,” he said, and Pomfrey did not miss the hint of a smile on his lips that he tried to hide. She grabbed the Pepper-Up Potion and a fever reducer before heading back to Draco’s bed.

“ _Enervate_!” she exclaimed, her wand pointed at Draco, and his eyes opened slowly to look at her. “Welcome back, Mister Malfoy. I’ll need you to drink this potion first...” She placed the fever reducer in his hands and smiled as he downed it with a horrible face. “Terrible, isn’t it? Now this one.” She sounded almost taunting as she handed him the Pepper-Up, and he did not even look at it before drinking it, so when steam began pouring out of his ears, he turned a nasty colour of red and clamped his hands over his ears. “There we are, Draco. You’ll be up to snuff in no time.”

Harry could not keep back a small fit of laughter at the sight of haughty Draco Malfoy with steam gushing from his head, and Draco shot him a nasty look before deciding that he was too weak to argue, and he moved to lean against Harry’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Harry blushed, and trained his gaze away from the mediwitch whilst his hands rose up to hold Draco lightly, palms stroking down his back. “Well, Harry,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice, “it appears to me that he is indeed recovering. Just because none of the personalities have disappeared doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel a lot better. Next time it’s not Draco, why don’t you ask one of the other personas how to make Draco feel better? Surely one will tell you.” She reached out to touch Harry’s shoulder, not missing it when Draco’s hand slipped into one of Harry’s, and she looked thoughtful for a moment before pulling her hand back. 

Harry nodded slightly and moved to stand up. “I’ll do that,” he said quietly, and he carefully pulled the steaming Draco into his arms to carry him like a child. “Thanks for fixing him, Madam Pomfrey.” He was slightly embarrassed at the way she looked at them when they held hands, and he wanted to get out as fast as possible. When her hand stopped him, however, he looked strangely at her, and even more so as she held up a finger. “...Yes?”

“There is a portrait of Petronius in Gryffindor Tower, Mr. Potter, that is protected by the password ‘ _casurus_.’ Approach it and speak the password, and you will find private quarters for the two of you so your dorm-mates don’t get so miffed. You can move your things in as soon as you like...” She smiled lightly at the look of pure ecstasy on Harry’s face and watched him nod and leave with Draco in his arms.

After having tucked Draco back into bed, Harry approached the portrait, which was in the common room, and whispered the password so no one else would hear. To his delight, the picture swung open and revealed a room much like the dormitory they had stayed it: coloured in crimson with wooden floors, two large four-posters, a fireplace, and a connected bathroom. Without missing a beat, he closed the portrait and started upstairs again only to be stopped by Hermione, who cocked an eyebrow at the strange look on his face. “I heard that Draco was throwing up this morning... Is he all right?” she asked quietly.

“I took him to Pomfrey and she gave him a Pepper-Up potion,” he chuckled, and he used his hands to mimic the steam from Draco’s ears.

Hermione giggled and looked around a bit before she reached out and took Harry’s hand. “I thought about what I said yesterday, Harry, and I’m sorry. Having Malfoy around has just been a little strange, and... and if you do decide, well... Harry, I’m not blind.” She was struggling for her words, but even so, Harry found himself blushing quite heavily. “When you’re around him, you’re always touching him, you act like you both have a secret that no one else knows, and when I saw you at the game yesterday, I was a little jealous. Ron doesn’t look at me like that, not ever, and—” 

“What, how was he looking at me?” Harry asked, feeling his heart beating hard in his chest. Just because he and Draco had kissed in the middle of the night did not mean they were at all together, and he though he had thought about it, he was not so sure he could be Draco Malfoy’s boyfriend, or vice versa. “He wasn’t looking at me any way!”

“Oh, Harry, don’t be so thick!” she snorted, and she mimicked puppy eyes at him. “He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon to give the sun shining out of your arse a chance to rest. I’m not the only one who’s noticed, either, and Ron is positively freaked out by it. He won’t be angry, though, unless you hide things from him... so don’t. From either of us.” She smiled at the gentle blush on Harry’s cheeks and found herself blushing as Harry quietly told her what happened in the middle of the previous night. “You kissed him, Harry? Well... er, was it good?” She was not sure what exactly she could have asked besides that, and she grinned as Harry’s cheeks threatened to burn right off his face. “I’ll take that as a yes, and I won’t tell Ron about it until you’re ready to tell him, but just don’t hide it, okay?”

Harry nodded shyly and watched Hermione as she left the room before he hurried upstairs to check on his charge, who was already awake and sitting up in bed, his Transfiguration text open on his lap. “Hey,” Harry whispered, sitting on the bedside and peering at the contents of the pages Draco was reading before touching his forehead. “You seem to be feeling better.”

“A little,” Draco admitted, and he looked up to Harry, his eyes focused on him, and Harry saw for the first time what Hermione was talking about. His hand crept over to find one of Draco’s, his stomach giving little flops as he leaned in to kiss Draco’s forehead, and he felt Draco melt against him. “Harry, can we go flying tonight?” he asked very softly, fingers slowly lacing with Harry’s, and he wanted to kiss him, but he was much too shy.

“If you bundle up and come to Quidditch training with me, when training is over, you and I can fly until curfew. Before that, though, we have to move. We’ve got a few rooms to ourselves, apparently, to stop everyone else from complaining about you being here,” he claimed, smiling as Draco grinned up at him, and he reached up to cup Draco’s cheek, just leaning in to kiss him again when the dormitory door opened and Ron came bounding in.

“Harry, are you ready for Quidditch tonight?” Ron asked, not noticing Harry jerk away from Draco and shift, unsettled, for a moment. Harry sighed and smiled lightly at Draco, who got out of bed and began packing his things.

That evening, after they were moved into their new rooms, Harry found that he could not concentrate on Quidditch at all. Draco was sitting in the stands wearing his winter cloak and scarf, watching them play, and Harry kept catching himself watching Draco watching. Ron caught him at it several times as well, and was getting so worked up over the fact that training was already terrible that he threw the Quaffle at Harry and caused him to spin wildly in midair for a moment before stopping with Harry upside-down. “Pay attention!” Ron snapped, though he was pleased to hear Draco’s raucous laughter from the stands. 

“Sorry!” Harry exclaimed, and he got back into training. He was careful not to look at Draco again, despite Draco taunting him, saying that it was a wonder Gryffindor ever won at anything when training was like this. Ron was listening to this as well, and slowly his frustration built until he ended training twenty minutes early, yelling that he needed a break from the “bumbling idiots” that made up the rest of the team. Harry hid a smile with his hand and flew over to the stands, landing on them and gesturing to the back of his broom. “Get on, you prat. You pissed Ron off...”

“I didn’t!” Draco exclaimed in protest as he climbed on behind Harry, his arms slipping around his waist. He took a moment to run his palms over Harry’s flat stomach before grabbing his own wrists, and he tucked his head between the other’s shoulders. “You were the one not paying attention. Like I said, I can’t believe you ever beat me, because—” Harry cut him off by kicking off the stands and flying at breakneck speed across the pitch. Draco screamed and held on tightly, having never ridden a Firebolt before, and he knew that any other broom was permanently ruined for him as Harry steered them effortlessly through the skies. “You could have warned me!”

Harry threw the broom into a sharp dive towards the grass, his hair flying back with the wind, and just as they neared the ground, he evened out the broom and slowed down enough that when he flipped around and wrapped his arms around Draco to pull him off the broom and roll onto the pitch, neither was hurt. The broom stopped immediately and hovered a few inches over the ground beside them as they rolled to a stop in the high grass and both burst out laughing, arms around one another and legs moving to tangle together. “F-fuck you!” Draco managed through his guffawing, and he took a deep, calming breath before bursting into giggles again. 

Harry realised just how closely pressed together they were as they made eye contact, and he did not hesitate this time, hand sliding up into Draco’s hair to pull him into a long, heart-stopping kiss that made his breath hitch in his throat. When his heart restarted again, it was as though it could not beat fast enough, and he felt Draco’s pounding out a similar rhythm against his chest as their mouths opened together and tongues met shyly, caressing and twisting around one another. Draco’s legs squeezed his thigh, and when the kiss broke, both took a deep breath and stared at one another. “What’re we gonna do?” Harry whispered, his breath visible between them. 

“That,” Draco replied, his chilly hand moving to run fingertips over Harry’s jawline. This was enough to convince Harry, for he leaned in again, and the chill of the wind was ignored as they wrapped up in one another.

Ron was staring at the both of them from outside the pitch, watching as Harry rolled on top of Draco and moaned into his mouth, and his heart hurt. He did not want to lose his best friend, not like this, and though he knew that Harry would tell him, that he wasn’t that everything was going to be fine, he knew it was a lie, and he wanted nothing more than to run out there and tug them apart, slap Draco, and take his best friend away forever. Instead, he heaved a heavy sigh and turned his back on them, shoving his hands in his pockets and wanting nothing more than to be holding Hermione. 

Draco finally shivered and buried his face against Harry’s neck. “It’s cold... Can we go inside?” he whispered, smiling as he felt Harry lift him to his feet, and he slipped his hand into Harry’s as they headed towards the castle. Once up in Gryffindor Tower, they went into their private rooms, and Draco regarded the two beds with a bit of a snort. “Shall we push them together?” he asked quietly, and when Harry nodded and drew his wand, he blushed as the two beds pushed together in the centre of the far wall. “Much better.”


	12. Livelihood

* * *

Ron had absolutely no intention of speaking to Harry or Draco the next morning—he was not angry, but just a little upset that Harry had kept such a big secret from him—but when the pair strode down for breakfast and sat across from him, Harry looking perfectly normal and Draco obviously the child-Draco, he could not help a, “Mornin’” through his bacon at them. His heart lightened a little as Hermione squeezed his hand beneath the table, her face buried in the Daily Prophet.

“Morning, Won!” Draco exclaimed excitedly before placing a straw in his milk and blowing bubbles into it. “How didja sleep? Hawwy kept me up aaaaall night tossing and turning, but I musta falled asleep ‘cause I woke up this morning with drool all over my pillow.” He grinned, proud of himself, and he grabbed a bit of bacon off of Harry’s plate to shove into his mouth. 

Hermione snickered a little before her face became suddenly very serious, and she looked up at Draco with an unreadable expression. She closed the newspaper and studied him for a few moments before she slid the newspaper over to him. “Can I speak to Draco?” she asked quietly, slightly shocked as the child nodded and visibly changed in posture and manner to the Draco they were familiar with. “Draco, sorry to, er... bother you? I think you need to read page 6 of the Prophet.”

Harry gave her a strange look, shocked that she was able to bring the real Draco back, and he moved to slip his hand into Draco’s only to have it denied as he reached up and nabbed the paper. “Must be important,” Draco mused, and he munched on another piece of bacon as he flipped to the indicated page and began to read. Harry and Hermione studied him differently—Hermione to gauge his reaction and Harry to attempt to figure out what was going on—and when Draco’s eyes widened and his face lost all colour, Hermione buried her face in her hands. “Shit... Fuck,” Draco murmured eloquently as he struggled to get off the bench at the table, looking around frantically as though seeking assistance. Harry grabbed his arm only to be pushed off, and he watched as Draco managed to get untangled from his seat and started for the professors’ table.

“Oh, Draco,” Hermione breathed into her palms, grabbing the paper from the table and staring at the page again. When Harry gave her a strange look, she sighed and pushed the paper in front of him, pointing to a picture of Lucius. “He was seen in Hogsmeade last night, Harry,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought he was dead... We all did. I can’t imagine what Draco’s thinking...”

When Draco, Snape, and Dumbledore moved to walk briskly from the Hall, Harry left the table and joined them, falling in step beside Draco and reaching his hand out to him. No one in the Great Hall missed it as Draco reached out and threaded their fingers, and the last thing Harry heard before the doors closed behind them was the thud of Ron’s fist against the table and Hermione’s sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, then he squeezed Draco’s hand comfortingly. Grey eyes met his, full of fear, and just as Harry was about to question the look, Dumbledore led them into his office.

Draco sat down in one of the chairs and huddled up, bringing his knees to his chest, and when Harry took his seat in the chair beside him, he seemed to quickly change his mind and plop down in Harry’s lap. Severus grimaced and shot Albus a hopeless look, but the Headmaster merely smiled and sat down, not behind the desk but in Draco’s abandoned chair. “Mister Malfoy, you seem to have previous knowledge of Lucius’s... livelihood. May I inquire as to how?” His voice was very gentle, undemanding, and as he spoke he reached out to touch Draco’s arm. When Draco shook his head violently and hid his face in his hands, Harry felt him seize up, and the person who stood up suddenly and sat on the edge of Dumbledore’s desk was not Draco, nor anyone else Harry had met.

“Sorry to be so abrupt.” The man standing before them had a distinct Irish accent—something Draco had never, ever had since his voice favoured a lightly-Scottish tone—and he swept a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, Draco really doesn’t need to be so upset. I can speak to you instead.” He looked Harry over and smiled very softly before nodding to himself mysteriously before cocking an eyebrow at the professors. “Where were we?”

Dumbledore smiled and leaned forward slightly. “I was just inquiring as to how Draco know that Lucius was still alive. I expected him to be excited that his father was living, but instead he seems terrified. Can you, sir, enlighten us?” The new personality shook his head, causing Dumbledore’s forehead to crease, and the older man sighed. “I see... Why can’t you tell us?”

The man did not immediately answer, hopping from his perch to walk over to Harry’s chair. He knelt before it and reached up to tip up the Gryffindor’s chin, inspecting him, and he finally smiled. “It’s a secret. We can only tell one person, and we’ll tell him when we’re ready. For now, I think Harry and I should go lock ourselves up until we are certain Lucius has left the area. It would not do for him to sneak into the castle, Headmaster, and find us... Not like this,” he replied quietly, and he cleared his throat before standing back up and offering a hand to Harry. “Shall we? You and I need to speak in private, Harry.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore, who gave a soft nod, and he swallowed hard before taking that hand and allowing himself to be pulled from the cushy chair, nearly falling into Draco but catching himself just in time. “Be careful, Harry, Draco,” Dumbledore said quietly, and he rose to put a hand on each of their shoulders. “If this is such a severe situation, we must all take great caution to make sure nothing of consequence occurs.” As the pair nodded, Albus smiled and gestured to the door. “Farewell, boys.”

The silence between Harry and this new persona was deafening as they approached Gryffindor Tower, and the moment they entered their private rooms, Harry sat down on the bed and watched warily as the other sat down beside him and reached over to touch his shoulder. “Harry, it’s very nice to meet you at last,” he said quietly, and his arm slipped around Harry. “We all like you very much, save for one. Draco especially likes you, you know... He likes you more than anyone, but I’m a close second.” Harry felt his cheeks warm up as the other pressed against him and touched his cheek with his nose. “Because I like you so much and because I’m the only one that knows, I’m going to help you.”

At this, Harry’s eyes lit up, and he turned to meet grey eyes that were so startlingly similar to those of the real Draco that his heart skipped a beat. “Help me? Really? What... what can I do?” he asked eagerly, then paused. “Wait... Is there a catch to it?”

“No catch,” the other man laughed, and he sighed as though he bore the greatest responsibility. “Listen, Harry... It’s very crowded in here, and Draco is very afraid all the time. I want things to be the way they used to be for Draco, and while it will certainly mean my integration with him, I am perfectly willing to merge and never be seen again once my work is finished. There’s a trick to it, you see.” He smiled a little as though listening to something in his head, and a moment later he cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair. “In the beginning, we chose you, Draco’s greatest rival, to be the one we would trust with our names because we never, ever suspected that you would take him on. There was an agreement between all parties, that when we spoke our names to you, our integration with Draco would be immediate and permanent. Fortunately for Draco, you are very kind and generous, and fortunately for you, you are gaining a lot of trust in this head of ours. I expect you will be receiving names very soon.”

Harry blinked and stared at him, his heart fluttering. “That’s it? That’s all I have to do?” he asked, awed, and when the other nodded, he took a deep breath and nodded. “I...I can do that.” He smiled a little and blushed as the other leaned over to plant a very soft kiss against his lips.

“I knew you could. Now, I am a bit different from the others. I am to stay until the very last personality integrates, and though you will likely only ever see me once or twice more, I will be there watching over and making sure everyone keeps their end of the deal. My name is Ian, Harry, and it’s a great pleasure to meet you.” He smiled a little before chuckling, and he cleared his throat a little again. “Ah, it seems Draco is rather indignant that I just kissed you. I apologise—but I’m not really sorry for it. Already it seems the memory barriers are failing... Draco can see some of what’s going on out here even if he’s not here. Despite what you think, Harry, you’ve made real progress.”

“It’s... a pleasure to meet you, too, I think,” Harry stumbled, and he could not help but laugh with the charming, engaging Ian. When his laughter subsided, he reached over to take Ian’s hand, and he flushed a little. “Thank you for telling me, but... can I see Draco? I would really, really like to—” Without hesitation, Ian froze for a moment, and Harry found himself looking into familiar eyes. “Hi...”

Draco swallowed hard and reached out to grab Harry’s shoulders. “He... he kissed you, the son of a bitch,” he growled, and before Harry could react, Draco crawled onto his lap and crushed their lips together. His tongue darted out and traced the outside of Harry’s lips before plunging inside, as though eradicating all evidence of Ian on those lips, and he moaned quietly against Harry’s mouth as they kissed for what seemed like ages. 

When the kisses ended, Harry realised he was on his back, Draco astride him, and he reached up to finger through Draco’s blond hair. “Why does it bother you so much that he kissed me?” he asked quietly, and he smirked as his hand trailed down to caress Draco’s feather-soft cheek. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything... unless, you know, you really wanted to be... well...”

“Okay,” Draco breathed, and he felt his cheeks flush as he looked down to Harry. “If you think you want to date someone’s who’s... well, crazy.” He squealed as Harry reached up and assaulted his sides with his fingers, and he fell to the mattress giggling and attempting to squirm away. “Stop it! I... I can’t breathe!” he cackled, and he returned the offensive.

Ron and Hermione gave pause outside the boys’ room, hearing the two yelling and laughing inside, and Hermione sighed as Ron’s ears turned pink. “Ron,” she said quietly, and she took his hand. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready, okay? Draco’s not replacing you—you know that—and you and Harry will always be best friends. You can’t be angry over this—”

“Can’t I?” Ron snarled, and he released her hand before stomping up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. Hermione watched him with sad eyes, but made no move to stop him.


	13. Threats

* * *

Hermione watched over the next few days as Ron grew steadily angrier in Harry’s silence. She kept expecting Harry to bring it up at dinner, to pull them aside, but any time it seemed as though he might, he blushed and changed the subject. Draco, she noticed, seemed to be content with this, and whilst she understood the appeal of being secret lovers, she felt slightly betrayed. Harry was her best friend— he was supposed to trust her. However, when Ron decided that he had had enough, she was sure that this was a very improper way of handling the situation.

Harry and Draco sat down quietly at the table early one Wednesday morning, Draco looking particularly tired and Harry acting slightly irritable, and they were sitting a good foot away from one another. Hermione suspected they had not slept well the night before, and greeted them with a small smile and a, “Good morning, you two.” They did not share her enthusiasm.

Ron did not say a word, instead simply stuffing his mouth with bacon, and when Hermione elbowed him, he elbowed her back stiffly and refused to look up. He did, however, see that Harry and Draco were inching closer to one another, and when Harry’s arm moved to touch Draco’s hand under the table, Ron dropped his fork loudly and glared straight into Harry’s eyes. “Why the fuck are you keeping secrets from us?” he growled lowly, but the Gryffindors sitting near them heard and turned their heads to observe. “No one’s blind, Harry —we all see what’s going on— so why the hell don’t you tell us?!” His voice was rising as he spoke until the entire Gryffindor table and part of Ravenclaw’s was staring. 

Draco’s eyes widened slightly, and as he carefully kept his gaze from alighting on Harry, his lips curled slightly into a nasty smirk, and he leaned forward a little. “What’s wrong, Weasel? Does everyone not inform you before doing anything? Did you not receive a notice?” His voice was snarling, and his eyes narrowed before he glanced up to his boyfriend, whose face was a fierce red from fury, not embarrassment. “What secret is he keeping from you, exactly? Did he not tell you before using the loo this morning or—”

“Shut your face, Malfoy!” Ron snapped, slapping his palm against the tabletop, and he snapped his eyes back to Harry. “You think we don’t know what’s going on between you? I thought we weren’t going to keep secrets anymore, goddamnit!” By now, it seemed as though the entire Great Hall, including the snickering Slytherins, was staring at them, and while the teachers continued eating their breakfast, it was obvious they were forcing themselves not to look up.

Seamus chose this time to chime in, touching Ron’s shoulder and shaking his head. “It’s hardly a secret, mate. Why should Harry have to tell you when it’s so bleeding obvious?” His voice was hushed, as though he was afraid for anyone else to hear, and he jerked back as Ron made a violent gesture in his direction. “You don’t have to get so touchy over it, damn. I wouldn’t want to tell you either!”

This was hardly helping. Harry was shaking slightly, his cheeks on fire as he leaned forward and laced his fingers on the table. “You want to know why? Because I knew you’d act like a damned fool like you always do!” he exclaimed, and he reached over to seize Draco around the waist and haul him close. “What I choose to do is my business, got it? I have enough on my plate right now without you freaking out on me over everything I do, so you’re either going to have to get over it or leave me the hell alone! Whether you like it or not, he and I are going to… going to be like this!” No matter his lack of eloquence; this statement seemed to please Draco, who gave a firm nod and defiantly leaned up to brush his lips across Harry’s cheek.

This simple act threw Ron into a rage, and he stood up abruptly, forgetting that the bench was behind him and tripping over it as he tried to step backward. Harry and Draco watched as he fell flat on his arse in front of everyone, and Harry closed his eyes as he heard the snickers from his schoolmates evolve into raucous laughter. Ron’s ears enflamed and he scrambled up, trembling, before running out of the Great Hall in utter humiliation. Hermione felt herself blushing as well, and she sighed softly at the couple before her, who had parted and were pointedly not looking at one another, before she stood up. “Well, if YOU’RE not going to go after him, Harry, I will,” she huffed in a disappointed tone, gathering her bag and hurrying after her ashamed boyfriend.

Harry decided that he should take the morning off classes to gather himself, and when Draco climbed out of the shower, he found his boyfriend lying miserably on the bed. “Hey,” he whispered, sitting down beside him and threading his fingers through that thick black hair whilst dressed in nothing but a robe. “Cheer up. He had it coming, you know, and thanks to him, everyone in the fucking school knows about us.” Draco sighed and ran his fingers through his wet hair, shaking his head before lying down next to Harry, his robe dangerously close to falling off him. “Come here.”

Harry watched his boyfriend’s eyes for a moment before he scooted closer, head settling comfortably on the pillow as his hand reached out to adjust the robe on Draco’s chest. Pale fingers caught his wrist, and he gulped quietly as Draco slid his hand into the robe, bringing Harry’s fingers in contact with his cool, damp skin. There was a moment’s pause before Harry leaned up to kiss him soundly on the lips, and his hand slid further into the robe to caress that naked back. His fingers slid over the small of Draco’s back and they both shivered, the robe beginning to come open, and as Harry’s palm moved down to cup Draco’s arse, his tongue sliding into his mouth, Draco felt the tie on his robe fall loose, and he pressed against the other with a moan. “You can take it off if you want,” he whispered between kisses.

Harry did not need to be told again, and he immediately pulled the robe down around Draco’s waist, hands exploring the newly-bared skin of Draco’s chest and stomach. When his fingers reached the robe again, he opened his eyes and looked into the other’s eyes to find no hint of fear, and he seized it to push it completely off. Draco was glorious lying there with him, the light from the window catching him just so, and Harry’s eyes devoured the sight of his full nudity, his smooth hips and thighs and the taut flesh stretched over his rather prominent arousal. His heart pounded in his ribcage as he dared to caress Draco’s most intimate places with his palm, and he looked up into his eyes to make sure that this was all right. He was greeted with the sight of Draco’s eyes falling shut and his head falling back slightly, and he rightfully took this as a signal to continue forward.

He felt Draco’s hands on his trousers, felt the button and zip come undone speedily, and he shivered as his pants tightened so much that he could feel the hem cutting into his hips. His other hand moved down to caress the silky skin of Draco’s erection, and he stroked it with all the skill of a seventeen year-old virgin, but Draco did not seem to notice nor care about his lack of skill as he arched his hips into those welcoming hands. His own slipped into the hem of Harry’s trousers and pants, pushing them down over his hips and seizing them in a fierce grip as he leaned in to devour Harry’s neck. Fingers pried apart Harry’s buttocks, and he smoothed his palm over each one individually before squeezing them together and giggling quietly against the hollow of Harry’s throat. “What’re you giggling about?” Harry gasped, eyes glazing over as he looked into Draco’s. He searched that expression for a moment before he realised that it was not Draco at all, and his hands flew off that pale body as though burned. “Who the hell are you?!” He did not recognise this personality at all, and as the other sat up and arrogantly pushed a lock of hair behind his ear with a smirk, Harry knew that he did not like him.

“You’re so easily… well, easy,” the man whispered nastily, and he reached over to run his fingers very lightly across the bulge in Harry’s pants before seizing it with strong fingers. Harry’s eyes widened and he yelled in pained shock, quelling the urge to jerk away because he had a feeling the other would not be keen on letting go. “Calm down, little Potter. Now that I’ve got your attention, listen to me. If you so much as touch our body once more —ever— then I will kill you. After all, I have to have practise for when I take over, don’t I?”

Tears were streaming down Harry’s face as the agonising fingers that were mercilessly gripping his most delicate of organs gave a harsh tug that Harry though would be the end of him. “Y-you leave Draco alone! Get out of his—” The other cut him off by suddenly releasing his groin and knocking him back on the bed, hands clenching around his throat. Harry could not breathe, could hardly see as the other blocked his airway and bounced hard on his chest.

“I will not hesitate, Potter.” The next thing Harry knew, he was released and pain flooded through him again. Choking and sputtering, he rolled onto his side and gasped for air, feeling the body beside him give a start, then, “Harry, fuck, are you all right?” It was Draco’s voice, and Harry felt tears rise to his eyes. Draco’s hands alighted on his arm, but Harry pulled back from his touch and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he rasped, and he shook his head. “We…We can’t touch. Draco, I—”

“Fuck that,” Draco growled, and he seized Harry’s shoulders, looking into his eyes and shaking his head. “I don’t take threats, Harry, and neither should you. I’m with you, I want to be with you, and no one, not even ME, is going to keep us apart.” 

 

Harry woke up before Draco the next morning, and he slipped quietly out of bed and out of the room. When he arrived at the boys’ dormitory, he moved inside to find that everyone was awake and getting ready for the day, and they all greeted Harry save for Ron, who snobbily refused to look at him. “Ron, I came to say I’m sorry,” he sighed, and when Ron continued to avoid him, he rolled his eyes. “I’m having a hard time right now, you know. So please, try to calm down about it and be my friend again.” Silence. Harry sighed and looked over at Neville, who shrugged helplessly, and he shook his head. “Fine.” He gathered his pride and left the dormitory again, unable to muster the energy to give a damn.


	14. Coping

  
Author's notes: When Draco Malfoy's mental health mysteriously declines, he is placed under the care of the one person he responds to: Harry Potter. PreHBP: rape, violence, character death, slash H/D  


* * *

* * *

As Hogwarts sank deeper into autumn, Harry found himself desperate to begin learning the names of Draco’s personalities, but contrary to Ian’s claim, he had not received one. It seemed that Draco’s personality switches were intensifying, and often he did not even show any outside change when they changed. Harry recalled vividly one afternoon when he had been brave enough whilst snogging to slide his fingertips into the hem of Draco’s trousers, and the moment they took the plunge into Draco’s boxers, Harry found himself staring into the eyes of the child, who, disturbingly enough, moaned and bit his bottom lip. It had been the first time Harry had really touched Draco like that and, he had mused furiously in the cold shower afterward, likely to be the last time it would happen until Draco was cured.

Draco was becoming more and more upset over time concerning his situation, and the morning they were to take a private trip down to Hogsmeade on Dumbledore’s permission, Draco had spent the entire morning in bed, an utterly dead expression darkening his eyes. “Why aren’t I fixed yet?” he asked in whisper when Harry knelt on the floor beside him, and he met his boyfriend’s gaze. “Why, damn it?” He looked completely stricken in that moment, and he scrunched his face up to stop the onslaught of tears when Harry hung his head. Draco’s shaking hand reached out and seized Harry’s robes, and he pulled him closer so he could bring his fingers up and run them over the infamous scar etched in Harry’s skin. “I—we thought you could fix... everythin’.”

Harry paused—Draco’s final word was not spoken by Draco at all—and he looked up once more into the eyes of the little boy. “Ah, hi...” Harry said gruffly, not wanting to be visibly upset in front of this child, and he reached up to take his hand. “Guess where I’m taking you today?” He tried to be cheerful, as always, with the child, since he had never had a cheerful adult in his life. They grey eyes of the child lit up, and Harry was no prepared for the moment when the boy launched himself out of bed and tackled him to the plush carpet.

“Hogsmeeeeade!” yelled the pseudo-Draco excitedly, and he jumped up off of Harry to bounce on the balls of his feet in utter joy. “Let’s go, let’s go now!”

Harry laughed, unable to keep from cheering up genuinely at the boy’s excitement, and he retrieved a nice set of robes for Draco. He was used to helping the child get dressed now, and he did not even blink at having to strip him nearly starkers to put on the robes, and he even brushed his hair for him. “Perfect,” he said, and he offered his hand to his boyfriend’s possessed body. 

For once, he would have liked to have a normal relationship. He wished it were the real Draco’s hand he was taking so he could pull him close and tell him that Hogsmeade could fuck off, push him back on the bed and take those robes back off again and touch him, really touch him, without being interrupted by sexually abused children. “Can I talk to Draco?” he asked quietly, curious if he could actually live out that fantasy, but the child shook his head.

“No! Draco wants to talk to you, but I want to play in Hogsmeade and he can’t come out until then!”

Harry took an angry breath and tightened his grip on Draco’s hand lightly before he dragged him out of their rooms and led him through the corridors of the castle towards the Entrance Hall. He knew the child was aware of his anger, but he did not seem to care as he skipped at Harry’s side, singing to himself a made-up melody. Harry watched him for a moment, then, “What’s your name?”

The boy froze and looked at Harry, eyes wide, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable for a few moments before he shook his head. “I can’t say,” he said, his voice almost sounding like Draco’s for that split second, and he pulled his hand from Harry’s. “That’s... not how it works.”

“Well, why not?” Harry demanded, growing angrier, and the child’s eyes suddenly brimmed with tears, and he ran ahead of Harry. “Come back here, damn it!” Harry was so frustrated, and he chased after him, taking him by the shoulders from behind and just moving to turn him around when he whirled around suddenly and gave Harry a blank, confused look. Harry recognised this look, this look of emptiness, of quiet surrender, and the Gryffindor wanted to scream. Instead, he heaved a heavy, furious sigh and strode on ahead of the paranoid schizophrenic quiet/panicky Draco. The Entrance Hall doors opened to dismiss the both of them, and Harry strode hard towards the carriage not realising that Draco stopped short three metres away from them.

When he opened the carriage and turned around, he saw the silent Draco frozen in terror with all the colour drained from his face, and he quickly rushed to him. “Hey, come on. What’s wron–oh.” He followed Draco’s petrified stare to the thestral drawing the carriage, and he slid his arm around Draco’s waist. “It’s a thestral,” he said quietly, and he brought Draco close to the winged skeletal horse, feeling the boy cringing and wincing against him. “It’s all right... He’s harmless. They’re invisible to anyone who... anyone who hasn’t seen death. He’s not going to hurt you.”

“Thestral,” the personality whispered, and Harry gave a start at hearing him speak in something other than a horrified shriek. Harry reached down with his free hand and seized one of Draco’s shaking ones, and he lifted it to press those delicate-seeming fingertips against the stiff hair of the thestral’s mane. The horse exhaled and pawed at the ground but did not acknowledge them otherwise, and the trembling Draco turned to look at Harry with a gleam of a new emotion in his eyes—amazement. “Harry... Harry!” he exclaimed in a breath, and he grabbed Harry’s hand to force it into the horse’s mane, and Harry grinned full-on. He could not help it; this was the only sign of progress in ages.

When Draco was finished touching the thestral, Harry led him into the carriage, finding himself disappointed that this, the first personality he had ever met, had fallen silent again. The carriage started up, and Harry relaxed back in the seat, closing his eyes.

He felt Draco move beside him, but he was not prepared for the moment when the silent persona climbed onto his lap, facing him, and he opened his eyes to look up at him, shock written all over his face. “What’re you...” He trailed off as the other leaned in and touched his cheek to Harry’s, and he cleared his throat a little before his arms came up to encircle Draco’s body. “Hello,” he breathed into the other’s ear, and he closed his eyes again as Draco breathed against his skin.

“H-hi...” The voice was lightly hoarse, deeper than Draco’s normally was, and Harry knew he would be talking and getting responses for the first time from this personality. Wanting to encourage this Draco, Harry gave him the gentlest squeeze and kissed him just below his ear, feeling him shiver. “That... that feels good.” He sounded reluctant to admit such a thing, and Harry did it once more before he brought a warm hand up to cup the back of the pale boy’s neck. “Can...you see thestrals, too?”

Harry nodded lightly and moved his face to look this person in the eyes, holding him securely on his lap as the carriage bounced and rocked on the cobblestone path to Hogsmeade. “I can... I saw Cedric die fourth year. I-It was you, wasn’t it? Who appeared when your mother...”

The boy nodded suddenly, not wanting Harry to go on. “Yes, but I... wasn't really separate until... until bad things started happening to Draco. I...” It looked as though it was difficult for him to speak, and Harry urged him on with another kiss to the soft spot under his ear. “I can cope when he can’t... When no one else can...”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he brought the other’s forehead to his. The carriage stopped, but he did not move, instead looking the other in the eyes. “You’re tired of coping, aren’t you?” Harry breathed, and he pressed his palm to Draco’s chest, over his heart, as the other nodded, tears in his eyes. “You don’t hear voices... You hear everyone else... You hear the one that– ”

“Yes, yes,” the persona rasped, the tears spilling over, and he gave a harsh sob as Harry kissed his lower lip. “I hear him, I hear everyone, I... I’m so tired... I—”

Harry kissed him full on the lips this time and felt him melt against his chest, his hands shaking as they clutched Harry’s shoulders, and Harry let him break the kiss to bury his face against his shoulder. “You don’t have to cope anymore,” Harry claimed in the softest tone, and he petted his back. “You can go back to being the same... You can, you know.” Harry was begging for a name, pleading with everything he was, so when the other pulled back and looked desperately into his eyes with the softest whisper of, “Abraxas,” and the body in Harry’s arms slumped suddenly and heavily, Harry thought he would cry.

“Abraxas, Abraxas,” Harry hissed, and he rocked with Draco’s form, feeling his body twitching oddly. “Let go, let go, Abraxas...” Draco’s hands rose suddenly to find Harry’s forearms, and when silver eyes met green ones, Harry knew he was looking into the real Draco’s eyes again. “Draco, you—”

“I can hear everyone,” Draco choked, and he grabbed Harry’s shoulders forcefully, his eyes unreadable as he got close to his boyfriend. “I can hear... everything. Harry, I...” It seemed that he could contain himself no longer as he pressed himself against Harry and crushed their lips together in a searing, wet kiss, hands tearing at Harry’s robes, and Harry’s eyes widened as he found his bare chest pressed to Draco’s as suddenly as if he’d cast a spell to make it happen. He could feel Draco’s heart pounding against his chest, and together they stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed like ages.

“It’ll... be okay,” Harry finally said incredulously, as though he had never actually believed it. He honestly had not, he realised, felt as though progress would ever be made, and it was apparent that the thought had never crossed Draco’s mind, either. In that moment, it was all so real, all so possible, and Harry knew.

It was worth it.

 

They spent the whole day together window-shopping, musing over Christmas and what they would get each other (horse spit and cat litter were the two claims), and after replenishing their stock of sweets, they returned to Hogwarts with huge grins on their faces. Harry was determined that this day could only get better, and so when they strode into the Great Hall for dinner, Harry sat down immediately in front of Ron and slapped a Chocolate Frog on the table. “I miss you,” he claimed matter-of-factly, and he leaned forward with a huge grin on his face. “A whole fucking lot. So please... forgive me for being such an arse, okay?”

Ron stared at him as though he had grown a new head, and he could do nothing but nod, and before he knew it, his Chocolate Frog was eaten, he had a new card for his collection, and he had his best friend back.

Hermione could not contain her smile, and she looked over to Draco in wonder. He looked so... so happy sitting with Harry, his hair slightly windswept, and she knew then why Harry liked him. He was attractive, he was growing nicer by the day... Draco was perfect for Harry.


	15. Contentment

  
Author's notes: Draco loses two more personalities, and there is a hint that something more may be at work than just a mental disorder.  


* * *

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Harry was immensely pleased to receive two more names from Draco’s personalities: one, Elladora, was an immensely angry woman who would not allow Harry near her for the three full days she had complete control of Draco’s body. “You’re a filthy blood traitor!” she would hiss at him, and she would lash out at Harry with fierce fists, “And your mother was a disgusting Mudblood! You deserve no better than a long, painful death!” Harry wrenched her name out of her, slapping her hard across the face and dragging her across the room by her hair when she attempted to tackle him. “Elladora!” she had screamed, “Elladora, goddamnit!” When Draco’s body slumped in Harry’s bear-trap grip, Harry dropped to his knees and helped his lover sit up, only to find that he was looking at another one of Draco’s personalities instead of his boyfriend.

“You got rid of my sister,” she whispered, and she reached up to cup Harry’s cheek with a shaking hand. “You’re a good man, Mister Potter. I would have liked to have known you longer...” She leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, for which Harry inexplicably found himself feeling lightly guilty. The word “Isla” was breathed against his skin, and Harry shivered lightly before pulling away from her to find Draco, shaking and upset, lying in his arms.

“They’re... They’re all my... I didn’t think...” Draco stammered unintelligibly before he curled against Harry and promptly fell unconscious.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly, and he lifted the lithe form of his boyfriend’s body into his arms. They needed to see Madam Pomfrey, he decided, as well as Dumbledore. With three personalities gone already, he thought Draco might like to speak to the Headmaster and, if possible, the loathsome Potions master.

Poppy greeted the boys with a sad smile, and she assisted Harry in resting Draco’s prone body on the closest hospital bed. “Three personalities have gone,” Harry said with a smile, and he grinned as the nurse clapped him on the back. “Isla, Elladora, and Abraxas were their names. I don’t know how many are left, though...”

“Isla, Elladora, and Abraxas—Potter, you own the home you do and don’t know those names? You’re thicker than I thought.” The patronising voice from the doorway belonged to Severus Snape, who had seen Harry carry his godson into the infirmary and followed them in. “You DO know who they are, don’t you Potter?” He crossed his arms and leaned up against the doorframe as Pomfrey did a basic check-up on the unconscious Draco, and Harry glared at him.

“No idea, actually. Why don’t you enlighten me?” he asked with a bit of a sneer, and he took a defensive step backward as Snape pushed himself off the flat plane of the wall. “It’s not like I visit often or anything... I haven’t been there since fifth year.” Harry had no idea why he was suddenly on the defensive, but he forgot it as Snape pulled out a scrap of parchment and borrowed a quill from Pomfrey. There were a few moments of scribbling, and Harry blinked as Severus suddenly thrust the paper to him.

It was a family tree. Leading up from Draco’s name were Lucius’s and Narcissa’s names, connected to familiar names such as Bellatrix Lestrange. As Harry’s eyes trailed up the tree, he blinked as he came across the three names of the personalities that had assimilated with Draco, and he looked up to Severus. “Er...What does this mean?” he asked, a frown line appearing between his eyebrows.

“It could mean any number of things, Mister Potter, but I think we can be fairly sure that there was, perhaps, a misdiagnosis. Either that, or we have ourselves one hell of a coincidence.” Severus gave a long pause at that moment as he thought quietly to himself, and as an idea came to him, he did not speak a word before turning on his heel and taking his leave of the Hospital Wing. 

Harry fought the urge to poke his tongue out at the Professor’s back, and instead turned back to face Draco, who was snoring very softly. “He seems as though he’s had it rough for a few days,” Madam Pomfrey claimed, and Harry nodded. Draco had not slept at all in the three days that Elladora had control of his body, and so Harry imagined that he was quite exhausted. He took the three steps between himself and Draco’s bed, where he sat down on the chair placed by the bedside and smiled to himself as he reached out to push a few stray locks of hair away from Draco’s sweaty forehead. “Harry, you and Mister Malfoy... I don’t normally meddle in student affairs, but I must say that I’m surprised...”

Harry felt himself blushing—none of the other adults in the school had really questioned it, though he saw the inquiry burning in Snape’s eyes—and he gave a little shrug. “I figure it’s... only natural. We’ve been in close contact for a long while now, and he needs me. I think that, after a while, I guess I kind of needed him, too,” he admitted shyly, and he was pleased that the nurse did not make a face or shake her head. Instead, she rested her hand on Harry’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Well, that’s fine, Harry,” she said with a smile, and then Harry caught the light blush that formed on her cheeks, and he chewed nervously on the corner of his mouth when she moved quickly to a filing cabinet and returned holding a pamphlet. Harry had the distinct feeling that he wanted nothing to do with it, but then it was in his hands, and he wanted to die. “Safe sex, Mister Potter, is the key to any successful relationship. You may think that because you’re both male that the risks are lower, but you would be incorrect in assuming—”

“I’ll read it, thanks,” Harry whispered, mortified, and he folded it up before shoving it in the inside pocket of his robes. He would be certain to throw it out later, if only for the fact that Draco or, worse, Ron would find it if he did not. He found himself quite unable to look the nurse in the eyes anymore, and he compensated by running cool fingertips over the gentle slope of Draco’s pale cheek. “Can I take him back? I just wanted you to have a look at him... He could probably use a few Sleeping Potions, though, if you could spare some.”

Madam Pomfrey frowned and shook her head. “Sleeping Potions can be addictive, Harry, so I’m afraid he will have to sleep naturally for a while. Natural sleep is better for him anyway, so why don’t you take him back to your room and then go have dinner with Mister Weasley? We’ve all noticed that you’ve been neglecting your friends a bit, Harry, and that’s unhealthy...” Ronald Weasley had been in to see her several times that month, asking about how Draco was doing, and she knew it was only because he wanted news about Harry. She felt badly for him, and she promised on every occasion to send Harry his way next time she saw him.

Harry looked down for a moment then nodded. “Good idea. Could I leave him here so I don’t have to carry him all the way up there then have to come back down?” he asked, and when she nodded and waved him away, she smiled and drew the curtains around Draco’s bed for privacy.

 

“Harry, hi!” Hermione called when he came into the Great Hall, and she moved so that there was room between her and Ron, who was staring silently at Harry with a mild expression of surprise. Harry looked thin, and he suspected that it was because he missed so many meals caring for Draco. Everyone heard him and Draco fighting over the past few days, and when Harry plopped down between him and Hermione, he flung an arm around his best friend’s shoulder and grinned at him.

“Hi, Ron,” Harry said quietly, and he shot him a tired grin before he began pulling everything in sight from the middle of the table towards him. “My God, food...” He was ravenous, and the turkey he shoved into his mouth tasted like nothing he had ever eaten. “Draco’s showing real progress... I got rid of two personalities this morning! It’s hard work, let me tell you...” He was very excited, and it showed, and Ron squeezed his shoulders with his arm.

“That’s fantastic, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, and she poured him a glass of pumpkin juice before fixing a stray lock of his hair. “There we are. So, we were wondering, Harry, what your plans are for Christmas? Will you come to the Burrow with us?” There was no point beating around the bush, and she knew Ron would never pluck up the courage to ask. Harry nodded and grinned at her through his mouthful of mashed potatoes, and she laughed, taking his arm. “Wonderful. Molly will be so happy! She’s been pestering me to invite you and Draco for three weeks. I didn’t ever think I’d see her so excited about getting to meet a Malfoy personally, but she seems very enthusiastic about you helping him.”

Harry paused and looked at Ron, who had a very strange look on his freckled face, and he cleared his throat. “Er, does she know about me and—”

“Definitely not,” Ron interjected, the tips of his ears turning pink, and Harry found the image so amusing that he burst right out laughing and took a deep, happy sigh. He had missed his friends more than even he knew. “What’s so funny?” Ron seemed a bit miffed, and so Harry punched him amicably in the arm.

“You can get that look off your face, Ron. You seem to think that all I do is shag him... We’ve hardly kissed, really. I’m paranoid about kissing him, because any time I do, it seems that he turns into someone else. It’s very...” He trailed off and shook his head, the smile melting right off his face. “I’m very frustrated sometimes, and I know he is, too. It’s hard, going to sleep right next to him and hardly pecking him the cheek goodnight because I don’t trust myself otherwise...”

Hermione’s eyes widened a little, and she found that her cheeks were burning bright red. “I didn’t know you slept in the same bed,” she claimed, her voice slightly higher than normal, and she shot Ron a look. “I don’t know if Molly will allow it. Besides—”

“You’ll be sharing a room with me!” Ron exclaimed, pulling a disgusted face. “Don’t be making out with Malfoy with me in the room. Promise me that...” The thought of Harry even kissing Malfoy at all made Ron want to hurl, but the fact that he could possibly be in the room when it happened...It was just intolerable. When Harry burst out laughing again, Ron huffed indignantly and turned his nose up a little.

“Don’t worry,” Harry giggled, quite unable to contain himself. “I think Draco will be so off-put by staying in the Burrow that he will likely be unable to find the energy to kiss me for the entire Christmas break. And if he does... strictly above the waist, Ron. On my honour!” Harry thought Ron would throw up, and he snorted into his spotted dick before he gave Hermione a wicked look. She giggled and reached over Harry to pat Ron’s arm.

Harry had not had such a good laugh in a long time, and it was very therapeutic. He almost wished he could forget that he had to pick Draco up on the way back to Gryffindor Tower, but when his friends helped him carry the dead-weight boy up the stairs, he did not feel so terrible. Ron and Hermione always made things better. When Draco was in bed, Harry did not even think twice about leaning down to kiss his warm forehead, and when he raised back up, he caught Hermione beaming at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” she whispered, and she reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand. “I’m just happy for you, Harry. I must admit, I never thought I’d see you do that to Malfoy, but it’s nice seeing you dedicated to something so thoroughly. When Ron and I got together, I know we kind of alienated you a bit.” Ron blushed a little and suddenly found his feet immensely interesting. “We’re happy for you. Both of us, even if Ron is a bit of a prat.”

“Hey!” Ron exclaimed, and he tickled her lightly before motioning to Harry. “Come on... Let’s work on that Potions essay. Malfoy can copy off one of us.” Together, the three made their way to the common room, and for the first time in ages, Harry was content and not at all worried about his slumbering boyfriend a few doors down.


	16. Demand

* * *

Draco was very quiet over the next few days, and Harry found that he was not hurt by it at all. He understood that Draco was trying to figure something out that he, Harry, could not possibly help with. Therefore, Harry gave him the space he needed. Ron and Hermione were glad to have Harry hanging out with them, and the fact that Harry wanted to go to Quidditch training on Thursday evening seemed to make Ron’s whole week. Together, they dressed in their Quidditch robes and slung their brooms over their shoulders before heading down to the pitch.

The team had been in the air for around ten minutes, passing the Quaffle back and forth for warm-up, when Ginny arched an eyebrow then smiled at Harry. “Harry, Draco’s here,” she said just loudly enough for him to hear, and she watched as Harry’s head turned so quickly that the Quaffle smacked him in the cheek. His glasses knocked askew, he ignored the hysterical laughter from the rest of the team, who were generally in good spirits about he upcoming match, and retrieved the fallen Quaffle before he cleared his throat. “I’ll be back,” he claimed as he threw the ball to Dean Thomas, who easily caught it and nodded. 

The air whistled in his ears as he dove to the stretch of ground between two goalposts where Draco was sitting in silence, his arms resting on his knees and his chin indenting the skin just below his elbow. Harry landed easily and set the broom aside, frowning at the stricken look on Draco’s face, and he knelt down beside him. “Hi, Draco,” he whispered. The sound was nearly lost in the wind, which was picking up in the early evening sun, but he knew that Draco had heard him when the blond boy met his gaze and drew in a deep, shuddering breath before reaching into his robes. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked very quietly, and he took the small piece of parchment that Draco procured from some pocket in his robes. Harry’s fingers unrolled it, and he frowned as he read the words scrawled messily on the parchment:

_You’re coming home for Christmas._

“What?” Harry asked incredulously, and he rolled the parchment again before arching an eyebrow at Draco. “But he’s escaped from prison He’s... The Ministry’s looking for him. How on earth can he expect—”

“The Ministry wants me to go home,” Draco rasped, and he crumpled the parchment in his hands before chucking it across the pitch. “They’re using me to get to him. Goddamnit, Harry, they’re going to get me killed!” His fists connected hard with the goal post he had previously been leaning on, and Harry saw a trickle of blood dripping from his hand afterward. He paused for a moment before he reached out and took the bleeding hand and kissed Draco’s palm.

Ginny giggled at the disgusted expression Ron pulled when Harry’s arms slid around Draco and eased him closer, and she threw the Quaffle at him. “Hey, you caught it!” she exclaimed, impressed since he had not even been looking at her. “Oh, Ron, get over it. It looks like something’s happened... Harry looks angry.” The whole team was watching now as Draco started to yell, though the wind obscured most of his words so they only caught a few stray ones, such as 'USED,' and 'TOY,' and 'FUCK THAT.' “Er, so does Draco,” Ginny corrected, and she crossed her arms as she watched Harry hop on his broom and make some sort of motion to Draco, who climbed on. The pair flew up to the rest of the team, and it was obvious now that Draco was crying and enraged. Harry was not crying, but he looked equally infuriated, and when he spoke to the team, it was clear that it took a lot of effort to keep his voice calm.

“Sorry, everyone. We have to go talk to Dumbledore right this second,” Harry said apologetically, and the team seemed to nod as one before he flew away with Draco clinging to his waist. The pair did not speak as Harry flew them right up to the castle doors, and they dismounted with all the ease of two boys who had been flying for years. They did not even join hands as they strode into the castle and immediately to the seventh floor corridor containing the lone gargoyle. “Fizzing Whizbee ” Harry barked at the gargoyle, which sprang to life and revealed the spiralling staircase behind it. Together, the pair started up the stairs, and Harry did not even knock before opening Dumbledore’s door furiously.

Severus Snape was sitting before Dumbledore’s desk, arms crossed and a pensive look on his face, when the door banged open and the two boys stormed inside. “Haven’t you learned to knock, Potter?” he asked coolly, leaning back in his chair and surveying the devastated look on Draco’s face. He knew what this was about, had been expecting it since Draco left this very office less than half an hour before, and looked to Dumbledore for a supportive look. The old man, however, was looking particularly absentminded, and Severus’s mouth hardened for a moment. “To what do we owe the great pleasure?”

“You know very well why we’re here ” Harry snapped, and he closed the door behind himself with a particularly loud bang. Draco gave a start and glared at him for a moment before he looked at Dumbledore. “How can you expect Draco to go home? Lucius is supposed to be in prison, Draco’s sick... he’s supposed to come to the Burrow with me and Ron and—”

“I am?” Draco interjected, looking confused. Harry had, in the turmoil surrounding Draco’s depression, completely forgotten about Molly’s invitation. “I don’t want to go to some—” He cut himself off at the incredibly nasty look Harry shot him, and he fell quiet and looked to Severus, who was staring directly at him.

“I have already discussed this with Draco. Lucius will, in all likelihood, show up at the Platform in London when you step off the train, at which point Aurors will apprehend Lucius, and Draco will be completely safe. You will not return to Malfoy Manor at all, and so I certainly don’t understand why, exactly, you are making such a big fuss,” Snape sighed heavily, quite tired of having this discussion. “The Ministry says that you are to hold up pretences. Write to your father and inform him that you will meet him on the platform, then prepare to go to the Weasleys for the holiday.”

Dumbledore was being oddly silent through this entire conversation, and Harry frowned at him. “Well?” Harry pressed, looking at the Headmaster with mild annoyance. “What do you think?” He wanted Dumbledore to say that the Ministry was forcing him to go along with this plan, that he had no choice, but Albus merely disentangled his fingers from his beard and met Harry’s gaze.

“I think that, until we learn why it is that Draco is so violently opposed to seeing his father, we have no choice.” The statement was spoken softly and clearly, but these quiet words had a great impact on Draco, who took a harsh step backward as though he had been slapped. “As I have expressed in the past, I thought you would have been thrilled to have a living father, but as it is causing you so much distress, it is obvious that you would much rather spend the holiday stuck in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom stall than at the Malfoy estate. Why, Draco?” His impossibly blue eyes were now focused on Draco, who shook his head and mumbled something incomprehensible. “Well,” Dumbledore sighed, and he gave a resolute nod. “Would you rather tell Harry tonight while you’re alone, and Harry can relate the gist of the story to us?”

Draco nodded and grabbed the doorknob, wanting to be out of that office as quickly as he had wanted to be in it. To his surprise, the door allowed him passage, and he fled, leaving Harry alone with the two older men. He did not run far, just to the bottom of the steps, and there he sat down heavily on the next-to-bottom step and buried his face in his hands. He could never tell the story to Dumbledore, to Snape... The thought was preposterous and embarrassing. He could tell Harry—would tell Harry—but this was hardly the way he had wanted to do it. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms before taking a deep breath to calm himself. It would not do to let one of the others take over, not now.

Snape watched his godson run away, and he frowned before glaring at Harry. “You will get him to tell you what’s happened. It’s been long enough, I think. Afterward, you will find the Headmaster or myself, and we will have a discussion.” He left Harry no time for argument and waved him away as though it were his own office. “Now go and talk to him.”

Harry and Draco strode back to Gryffindor Tower in near-complete silence. Draco was almost afraid to take Harry’s hand, and so when the other boy reached out and threaded their fingers, he was immensely relieved, and he leaned gently against his arm as they walked. “Can we take a shower?” Draco whispered, wanting to get comfortable before Harry asked him the one question that would answer everything—why Draco was sick, why Draco never wanted to see Lucius again. He was slightly surprised when Harry nodded, not expecting the Gryffindor to accept the invitation to a shower together, since they had not yet been in the nude together. They stepped through the portrait of the Fat Lady then through the portrait of Petronius to their quarters, and Draco felt himself blushing as Harry went to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

His heart was pounding in his throat—why had he ever made this suggestion?—when Harry came back out of the bathroom and walked over to him. There was a moment when they did not touch at all, then Harry’s hands, shaking very slightly, reached out to unclasp Draco’s robes then slide them from his shoulders. He was biting his bottom lip in concentration, not wanting to do this too quickly, and when the robes slid down around Draco’s waist, his cheeks caught on fire as the robes fell loose enough to slide right off of Draco’s lithe form if he would just move. “Come here,” he breathed, and for the first time in days, he enfolded Draco in a proper romantic embrace.

Draco’s breath hitched in his throat as he found himself pressed against Harry’s form, and he buried his face in the other’s neck as he felt hands slide into his robes, pushing them away from his body, and he realised quite suddenly that Harry had teased the robes until they fell into a warm pool at his feet. He stepped out of them, feeling slightly ridiculous standing there in boxer shorts and shoes pressed against Harry’s Quidditch-robed body. He moved his hands to the single clasp on Harry’s robes, and it was as though, abruptly, he had acquired a fever. His skin warmed, his blood pumping, as he bared inch after inch of Harry’s skin, and he looked up into green eyes as his heart pounded wildly. Then they were kissing as though they had been doing it all along, bare chest pressed to bare chest, and Draco stood on one foot and then the other, taking each one in turn in his hands, and pulling it and its corresponding sock off whilst never drawing his tongue from Harry’s mouth. He was dimly aware of Harry doing the same thing, but he did not care, did not dwell on it, and he flicked his wand at the portrait, sealing it and placing a Silencing Charm nonverbally on it. His wand got thrown aside then, and he felt Harry’s fingers catch his boxers just as his caught Harry’s, and they opened their eyes to look, wanting, into one another’s eyes. There was silent agreement, and then they were both completely bared.

Harry took Draco’s hands and pulled him backwards towards the bathroom. The tile was freezing beneath their feet, and the stark contrast to the warm carpet outside the room made Draco yelp. He dared not look down out of shyness, but he did not have time before Harry was pulling him into the hot shower. The water hit his skin like fire, and he moaned before closing his eyes again. Harry’s tongue pushed back into his mouth, and he felt Harry’s cock twitch against his as he kissed back with all he had. The water plastered their hair to their foreheads, and he thought that soap might be a good idea, before he grabbed the bar and soaped up his palms before traversing Harry’s back with them. Slick fingers dipped down to caress Harry’s arse, pulling his hips hard against Draco’s own, and he allowed himself to be pressed against the wall whilst kissing the horny Gryffindor in his arms.

Their mouths parted, and Draco lifted his chin as Harry began to devour his neck. Draco’s fingers took a devilish notion to slip between Harry’s legs from behind, and the fingertips came into contact with the warm skin of Harry’s scrotum. He felt Harry pause, and he did it again, his other hand wrapped securely around one of Harry’s buttocks as he whispered, “It’s me... don’t stop...” Teeth scraped his collarbone, and he realised in that moment how very hard his erection was, and he wanted Harry to touch it. The other boy seemed to read his mind, and Draco’s eyes widened at the ceiling as a warm, soapy hand slipped between his legs and began toying with him, 'cleaning' him meticulously as fingers slipped all around the hardened shaft and head. His foreskin was pulled back, and Harry washed beneath carefully to a moan of approval by Draco as his fingers pressed insistently against Harry’s perineum.

The pressure made Harry gasp against the hollow of Draco’s throat, and he reached back to grab one of those small, pale hands before bringing it around and latching it onto his arousal. Draco weighed it in his hand, loving how heavy it was in his palm, and he began to stroke it in a way he had only ever done to his own. Harry stopped kissing his neck and brought his left hand up to support himself against the wall as he pressed his forehead to Draco’s, staring into his eyes as he began to jerk Draco off in turn. His eyes darkened, lustful, and he moaned as his hips gave the slightest little jerk forward before he had a novel idea. He took his hand off of Draco and pushed Draco’s hand away from himself, and he stepped forward so their stomachs were pressed flush against one another, and he reached down to take both erections in his right hand, stroking them together.

“Nnngh, fuck, Harry,” Draco hissed, his knees feeling weak as pre-ejaculate dribbled from the end of his cock. He knew that he would not be able to take much more, not with Harry doing this for him, and he leaned his head forward to rest against Harry’s shoulder. “God, you’re going to make me—”

When these words issued from Draco’s lips, Harry moaned loudly and shuddered as his balls tightened, and he came hard all over Draco’s chest and stomach. This reaction to his words sent Draco immediately over the edge, and he gasped against Harry’s wet skin as throbbing ecstasy ran through him and he emptied himself into Harry’s hand. Had he not had the wall supporting his weight, he would have hit the floor hard, but instead he wrapped his arms around Harry and leaned heavily against him, gulping for air and shaking as they both crashed back down to earth. The water quickly washed their mess away, and he was mildly aware of Harry washing the rest of him as he stood boneless against him.

He could talk now... He knew Harry would not be angry, would respect him, and so he did not allow himself to fall asleep when Harry lay him down on the bed ten minutes later, clean and dry. They curled up together, basking in the warm afterglow of orgasm, and he buried his face in Harry’s chest. “I’m ready...”


	17. 16: Force

* * *

There was a long silence before Draco began his story, and Harry, though extremely impatient, did not press Draco to start talking. They were cuddled up in their bed, lying beneath the blankets with a fire roaring in the hearth, and Harry thought he was just going to fall asleep when Draco cleared his throat and drew in a slightly shaky breath. “Well, this is how it happened…” And he began.

 

_The vast corridors of the Malfoy Manor had been empty for a month–after the initial shock of the Malfoy deaths, anything with the name slowly faded out of the press–and so when thunderous footfalls echoed from the white marble walls, Draco’s eyes opened immediately. His tousled head rose from his goose down pillow, and he blinked wearily as he heard his name called. “Draco?” Cool feet fell into slippers before he padded across his large bedroom to the oak door, and he tugged the doorknob before poking his head out into the North Wing of the Manor._

_Glances left and right bore no fruit, but the footsteps grew louder, and just as he decided that he was imagining it, a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Draco gave a terrible start and quickly took three steps backward. “Y-you!” he gasped, and he fell to his knees in shock. “Father, you’re…you’re alive…How?” He was not sure that he wanted to rise back to his feet and embrace the man, for the look in Lucius’s eyes was unlike any he had ever seen, and he found that every time he met that gaze, his heart froze._

_“Rise, Draco,” Lucius whispered, his eyes slightly wider than they should have been, and he reached down to offer a hand to his son. “I was never in any danger…I took a leaf out of Barty Crouch’s book. Of course, the new guards of Azkaban saw me leaving, and there was quite a commotion, but I silenced those I could, and here I stand before you.” Draco began to reach up to take his father’s hand, but he caught sight of the marred flesh there, and he recoiled in horror. “Oh, that…It’s nothing, my son…Come now, take it.”_

_If Draco thought his father was acting strangely, he did not act upon it, and he placed his unscarred hand into his father’s. He saw something flash in Lucius’s eyes, and before he knew what was happening, he was being shoved against the wall, his toes dangling three inches above the floor. “Father!” he yelped, pain ripping through his shoulder-blades as they pressed into a picture frame. “What are you—”_

_“Listen to me, you little shit,” Lucius hissed, pressing very close to Draco and glaring at him. “You will obey my every command or you’ll meet the same messy fate as your mother. Got it?!” His voice was higher than it should have been, his eyes so wide that Draco could see the whites all around his irises, and a slow realization came over Draco._

_“You’re mad…”_

_“SILENCE!” Lucius threw back his free hand and punched his son as hard as he could in the stomach. Draco gagged and vomited immediately, bile dripping down his chin being the last thing he registered before that fist drew back again, and Draco was unconscious._

_He woke up in a cage. It was no larger than a dog crate, and he did not move for fear that Lucius might be in the room. He listened hard to his surroundings, hearing no breathing, and so he lifted his head to look around. He was in the basement of the Malfoy Manor, his chin dry and crusty with what he assumed was his vomit from earlier, and he moved to swipe angrily at it with his sleeve only to discover that he was completely nude. His fingers pressed gingerly into his stomach, and he winced to find it incredibly sore. “Damn it,” he moaned to himself, and he shivered. He heard the door at the top of the stairs open, and he immediately fell still, eyes closed tightly. He was terrified._

_“Oh, Draco, are we playing opossum?” Lucius crooned to his son, and Draco heard a key in the lock of his cage before the door swung open. He tried not to move—if Lucius thought he was truly asleep, maybe he would leave him alone—but Lucius reached into the cage and seized him underneath his arms, pulling him out and slinging him over his shoulder. Draco wanted to vomit again, but he managed to hold it in, and he thought wildly for a moment before he lifted a fist and struck Lucius as hard as he could in the man’s lower back. There was a yell, but Lucius did not drop him, instead tightening his grip on Draco’s body so hard that Draco cried out in pain. “You little shit,” Lucius whispered, and he gave a maniacal laugh that froze Draco’s blood._

_A few moments later, Draco found himself being thrown into the floor of his father’s study, naked and quivering as he stared into the blank faces of his father’s friends. They must have escaped with him. “Look, men,” Lucius whispered, and he gestured to his son. “He pays not for the sins he has committed. He must understand what he has done.” There was a murmur of assent that flew around the circle, and Draco rose shakily to his feet. Agony shot through his ankles and caused him to crumple again—his ankles had been broken in his sleep._

_“Leave me alone!” he shouted, and he gestured to one of the Death Eaters. “You’re allowing yourself to be influenced by a madman! What are you thinking! Get out of here!” It was a desperate and utterly ridiculous statement, for he knew that they would not heed his words. There came a quiet laughter from Lucius, and it spread as quickly as the murmurs earlier had. Draco wanted to weep, but he steeled himself for the worst as the Death Eaters gathered around him drew their wands. His hands and feet were bound, the ropes on his ankles causing him more pain that they would have had the bones not been broken. He heard the Cruciatus curse whispered a moment before agony ripped through his entire body, the sensation of knives cutting into every inch of his flesh making him open his mouth and screech. Malicious laughter echoed off the walls, and the curse was lifted._

_He slumped to the floor and heaved a deep, heavy sob as he felt hands on him, and squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he was lifted from his stomach and placed on his elbows and knees. He tried to struggle, but several more pairs of hands seized him, and he buried his face in the brook of his elbow as he heard robes hit the floor. How had he got into this? How could this possibly be happening to him?_

Draco paused in his story and shuddered at the remembrance of what was to happen next. It was something he had been trying not to think about since it occurred, something that had been eating away at him for months. He wondered wildly for a moment whether or not Harry would still love him after this, whether or not Harry would still find him attractive and beautiful, and he considered just cutting his story off there. Harry smiled softly, encouraging him, and he seemed to sense Draco’s reluctance to go on, for he leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Draco,” he whispered, and he met the blond’s eyes. “It’s all right…”

Draco’s lower lip trembled as he gazed into Harry’s green eyes, and he took a deep breath before he went on.

_Hands were all over him, touching him, caressing him in places he never, ever wanted his father’s friends to touch. He heard a sharp laugh from Rosier, and suddenly, he felt something hard and velvety warm against his arse, and he squeezed his eyes closed. “Leave me alone,” he whimpered into his arm, unable to move due to the hands holding him, and a great wave of relief washed over him when he heard his father’s cool voice announce that he had had enough of that. Draco’s skin was bare of hands again, and he lifted his head shakily to look his father in the eyes, only to find that Lucius was standing completely nude, a nasty smirk on his face as he held his half-hard prick in his hand. “Father…?”_

_“Do you know why your mother killed herself with a Muggle gun?” he asked maliciously. “Do you?” Draco shook his head and felt tears welling up in his eyes as Lucius stroked himself to full arousal. He knew what was going to happen, and it made him sick. “I had her under Imperius, you know…I knew you’d come running once she wrote to you, and since you’ve been a very, very bad boy, I thought I would welcome you home in a shower of red…” He snickered and looked around to his comrades before he leaned down and pushed Draco over onto his back. He crawled over him and sneered before he bit hard onto Draco’s lower lip and caused him to give a yelp. “You should have come to break me out, Draco…”_

_The Death Eaters catcalled as Lucius retracted the binds on Draco’s ankles, and for a fleeting moment, Draco thought he was going to be released, but Lucius cast another binding spell that, to Draco’s horror, bound his hands and feet all together. He felt a few rough kisses on his thighs, and he squeezed his eyes closed before—_

“He raped me, Harry,” Draco breathed, and his face crumpled as he buried his face in Harry’s chest. “Not just once…Fuck, he did it every day until the end of the summer! He’d feed me potions to heal my wounds from where…where he’d rip me to pieces. I needed St. Mungo’s so many times…I…” He broke off and fell quiet, lying there on Harry’s chest. He wanted Harry to move, to make some acknowledgement and stop just lying there motionless, but Harry was quite still. Draco’s legs were tangled in Harry’s, his hand resting on his lover’s right breast, and he frowned, waiting for the disgust to come forward. “I…I found a happy place in my head and…and never came out of it until you saved me, Harry.”

Harry stared up at the ceiling and frowned, his heart beating quickly in his chest. Draco had been raped…by his own father. It made Harry want to puke. He could feel Draco’s uncertainty, and he swallowed hard before he sat up a little and looked into Draco’s eyes. “Draco?” he asked quietly, and he turned the other over onto his back and brushed his fingers across the other’s face. “Listen to me.” His voice was shaky and unsure, and he slipped his fingers up into the other’s hair. “I will kill Lucius Malfoy if it’s the last thing I do. You got it?”

Draco swallowed thickly, looking up into Harry’s eyes, and something in his eyes flashed before Harry found himself gazing into the child personality’s expressive eyes. “Arcturus,” the boy breathed, and he closed his eyes as though all impurities were leaving his body, and when Draco’s eyes opened again, it was truly Draco. “Harry, what…?”

“Another one’s gone, Draco,” Harry whispered, and he crawled on top of Draco cautiously before kissing his lips softly, lovingly. “I love you, Draco.” It was the first time he had ever said it, and he saw a wave of emotion break over Draco’s face. “I do, and I’m going to avenge what he’s done with you…”

Draco’s hands lifted shakily into the air, and he cupped Harry’s cheeks in his hands before giving a shaky nod. He could not bring himself to words, but he knew that Harry knew he loved him, too. There could be no doubt in his mind.


	18. 17: The Ancestral Rite

* * *

The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and it was with a certain sense of dread that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy began preparing for their trip to the Burrow. Draco was utterly convinced that the plan concocted by the Ministry was guaranteed to be a cock-up, and he spent more than one evening in silence in the Gryffindor common room, staring out the window to the grounds below. Hermione and Ron showed concern for him, which made Harry feel much better, and when Ron even engaged Draco in a game of Exploding Snap, Harry was over the moon. He and Hermione sat back, watching as Draco pummeled his competition for the third time.

“What d’you reckon, Hermione?” Harry asked quietly, giving her a serious look. “Do you think this can, well…happen smoothly? I mean, honestly, there are so many ways this could go wrong, and all of them involve me being very, very furious in the end.” Harry had not wanted to show that he was as frightened as Draco was, and so Hermione was his trusted confidante.

Hermione gazed quietly at Harry for a few moments then shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. “It could go wrong, Harry, but that doesn’t mean it won’t. I mean, the two of you have overcome more difficult obstacles than this, right? Look at you, after all…Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, polar opposites in every sense of the term, have found some small happiness in this world together. I’d say that’s more of a miracle than pulling off this plan would be.” She smiled at Harry as Ron groaned again, and the scent of singed hair wafted through the common room. “Try not to think too much about the plan, all right? Just think about how great Christmas will be with all of us there at the Burrow. Molly’s going to have kittens if you ask for just one bed between you and Draco. Be sure to ask that one over dinner,” she giggled, and she looked up as Ron stomped over, looking thoroughly blackened.

“Your _boyfriend_ ,” Ron growled, and he thrust an accusing finger at Draco, who was looking conveniently baffled, “cheats. He’s _cheating_ , Potter! I never, ever lose at this game, and he hasn’t lost once!” The flecks of skin between blackened marks on Ron’s face were pink, and his hair was smoking lightly. Hermione licked her fingertips and put the ember out before grinning at him.

Harry gave Draco a reprimanding look, and Draco smirked confidently. “Get over here,” Harry snorted, and he beckoned to the blond, who immediately rose elegantly from his seat and strode over, crossing his arms and staring at Ron. Harry reached up and forced Draco to meet his eyes. “Did you cheat?” He cocked an eyebrow playfully.

“I am completely outraged at such a claim,” Draco huffed, his eyes raking over Ron’s burnt hair. “A Malfoy never cheats. I have honour, Weasley…”

“Yes, he has _honour_ , Ron,” Harry proclaimed, and he threw an amicable arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “These grey eyes? Completely innocent. You know what they say about Slytherins after all…” He moved to press his nose in the hollow behind Draco’s ear, causing the blond to splutter. “They’re a bit green behind the ears…” The groan he received from his best friends was warranted, he thought, and he grinned before pressing a kiss to the slope of Draco’s neck. “You don’t mind if I steal him from your game, do you? He’s been giving me the eye ever since you started and I’m afraid I can’t quite—”

Ron held up a hand to interrupt and waved them away. “Don’t want to hear it, Harry. Just go.” He was not comfortable with hearing about their intimate life at all, even though they had been close for several months now. Harry did not blame him in the slightest; before he caught himself falling for Draco, he would have never even thought that he could like other boys. He was unsure whether or not he even liked boys, or if he was, as he called it, completely Draco-sexual. It did not matter in the slightest to him, and as he led the blond into their portrait, he assisted him through with a push to him arse. Draco flushed.

Once inside, Harry snagged Draco in his arms and held him tightly for a few moments, smiling and pressing kisses to his hair. “You little scoundrel,” he breathed, and he heard Draco giggling somewhere under his chin. “You really shouldn’t cheat, you little shit. Ron would kill you if he found out…” He knew that Draco had invested in a trick deck of Exploding Snap cards last time they were in Hogsmeade, and he was, frankly, shocked that no one had caught him yet. Draco had been playing with the deck for weeks; Harry kept expecting to find him in the Hospital Wing.

“He makes it too easy, you know,” Draco sighed, and he pushed back away from Harry, giving a theatrical yawn. “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll go to—”

“You won’t. You’re going to pack tonight so we aren’t running around tomorrow night like headless chickens. Besides, I want to spend my last night alone with my boyfriend in an, ah, productive manner.” Harry’s eyes sparkled, and he saw Draco’s cheeks light on fire in the soft caste of candlelight. “Get to it, then, and I’ll whatever you’d like me tomorrow…”

It was enough to light a fire under Draco’s arse, and so the two boys spent the better part of the evening packing for the hols. Harry was astounded that Draco felt the need to pack nearly every fur he owned, and he cleared his throat more than once. “You know we’re only going to be there for two weeks, don’t you?” he asked after Draco attempted to sit on his trunk to close it to no avail. Draco gave him a sheepish look, and Harry shoved him off of the trunk before opening it and removing half of the winter cloaks. “I think two will suffice, don’t you?”

Draco was reluctant to agree with this sentiment. He watched Harry pack with an air of distinct annoyance, and he would clear his throat obnoxiously in mockery of Harry every time Harry added anything to the trunk. Harry rolled his eyes at Draco and poked out his tongue, tired of him complaining, and when Draco came over to attempt to rip Harry’s tongue out, Harry seized him and rolled onto the floor with him, his eyes starry. “When you’re better,” Harry breathed, his mouth inches from Draco’s, and he started to continue, but Draco held up a finger.

“When I’m better, we’re going to have sex every two hours for a month.” Draco gave Harry a devious little smile, enjoying the effect of the blush playing across Harry’s cheeks.

 

Their final class of the term was Potions, which seemed to go much faster than normal when Draco was on top of his game. Draco really was very good at them, and Harry watched him stir his cauldron with practised precision, and he nudged is knee under the table with a smile. “You’re a lot better at this when you’re not being a shit about it,” he observed, and he took Draco’s snotty sneer with a grin. 

On their way out of the class, Snape held them back and crossed his arms, staring at the boys with a cold eye. “I did some research for you,” he said quietly, and he took a seat in his desk chair. “If you’ll recall, I mentioned that Draco’s diagnosis might be incorrect. Upon learning the nature of the assimilation of Draco’s separate personalities and their names, my interest was piqued, and I found mention of old magic that could be of great interest to you.”

Harry and Draco exchanged curious looks before sitting down in chairs before the Potion master’s desk. Snape pulled a thick book out of his top drawer and set it on the desktop, sliding it across to the boys. “Page seven ninety-two, please. There, it mentions that, in eras past, an old magic called the Ancestral Rite was invoked upon every heir to the name of one of the “Great Families.” This was supposed to take place on the heir’s seventeenth birthday, but in extreme cases, the ancestors could be called upon by their portraits or portraits of close ones to come to the aid of the heir,” Severus explained, and he saw the boys exchange confused looks. “Do I need to simplify it for you?”

Harry shook his head and stared at Draco. “Well, what does that have to do with this?” he asked, and he could almost hear Snape’s imagination going wild with the thought of hitting him. “I mean, really. What on earth does that have to do with Draco being sick?” Draco gave a half-hearted shrug, looking thoroughly miserable. Harry knew that he had been doing his best to forget about his problem for the time being, considering he had more pressing things to be concerned with.

“It has everything to do with Draco being—or not being, as the case might be—ill. It is my belief that Draco’s ancestors and their close relatives have taken up residence in his body for the time being so he can heal himself. At their time of possession, the Headmaster and I believe that, based on what you have told us, Potter, they took over to prevent Draco’s mind from collapsing completely due to the abuse he received.” Severus’s voice softened as he gave his last statement, and he saw Harry reach over and take Draco’s hand. “It is also my belief that there is a quicker way of getting through these personalities. Now, I could be completely incorrect, but there should be some way to reverse the Ancestral Rite.”

Both boys leaned forward now, intense looks upon their faces. Snape wondered if he had ever been given such rapt attention before, in or out of class, and he allowed himself a snarky little smile. “Potter, you have an assignment over the Christmas holiday. You will go to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and search the extensive library that was once kept by Walburga Black. In the books, I presume you will find a Black family history, in which there should be some mention of the Ancestral Rites of the family. There should also, we hope, be a reversal spell for extreme cases.” He took the book, which had been untouched by the boys, and placed it back in his desk drawer.

They were stunned by the news. Harry did not know anything about Dissociative Identity Disorder in any case save for Draco’s, and he certainly did not know if Draco’s symptoms were normal or not. He had always assumed they were, as no one ever told him any different, but now that he was thinking back on it, he felt rather stupid. It did not make any sense that the personalities should just relinquish their positions upon giving their names; they seemed too intent on holding onto their places when they had control over Draco. “Well,” he said slowly, and he examined Draco’s eyes as though looking for an answer. “Abraxas Malfoy…tell me about him. Draco’s grandfather?”

Severus cocked an eyebrow and then shrugged. “Abraxas Malfoy was very famous. He traveled the world fighting whomever he could get to fight him; I believe he sought to be the very best duelist in the wizarding world…However, always fighting or running made him develop a rather severe case of schizophrenia in his old age. He was a very terrified man, though he had good reason to be. He died of dragon pox when one of his old—”

“Draco’s personality named Abraxas was Paranoid Schizophrenic,” Harry said quietly, deducing the truth from all the information he had received. “Of course, it makes perfect sense. You say the book’s in the Black library?” Snape nodded, and Harry was on his feet, pulling Draco up with him. “Good. Good…I’ll…I’m going to fix this!” And without another word to Snape, Harry fled the room with Draco on his arm. 

Severus sighed and shook his head. He never got any respect.

“Did you hear that, Draco?” Harry asked, though he was perfectly sure that Draco had heard everything he had. “We could have this fixed by the time we get back from Christmas! Draco…it…it means…” They were walking up towards the Great Hall for lunch, but Draco suddenly seized Harry and pulled him behind a statue. “Draco?”

The blond grinned and fell back against the wall, dragging Harry against him and leaning up for a scandalously vulgar kiss as his hands slipped inside Harry’s robes and down between his legs. “It means everything,” Draco whispered, and he squeezed his fingers around Harry, making the brunette’s breath hitch in his throat. He grabbed one of Harry’s hands with his left and pulled it down to the bulge in his own pants before catching Harry’s lips in a kiss again, and Harry lost it then and there.

He did not care that they were in the corridor between the dungeons and the Great Hall. He did not care that anyone could peek behind the rather large statue and see them there, or that they could get detention for a year for doing it. He broke the kiss and gave Draco a mischievous grin before he dropped to his knees and opened Draco’s robes, meeting his horny gaze for a moment before he began to ease Draco’s cock out of it prison. He was just about to pop it into his mouth with Draco quivering above him a moment before he heard a startled gasp. Instinctively, he pressed closer to Draco to hide his nudity, and he heard the blond whimper before he looked up to see Hermione there, looking incredibly torn between being furious and pleasantly surprised.

“What are you doing?!” she hissed, and she brandished the Marauder’s Map at them. “You were with Snape, then you both ran here and stopped…I thought something had happened…Damn it, Harry Potter!” She stamped her foot and pointed at him. “Do this kind of thing in your room, and…and just not here!” She turned her back to them, obviously waiting for Draco to get decent.

Harry was mortified. It was obvious that Draco was, too, as he was not at all aroused any more, and Harry helped him get fully dressed again before he sheepishly moved up beside Hermione. “Sorry…” He could not help but smiling at her, though, because she looked very flustered and not at all angry.


	19. 18: Stolen

* * *

Harry knew the moment that they stepped on the Hogwarts Express that this would not be a fun train ride. He and Draco snagged a compartment together while Ron and Hermione headed off to do their Prefect duties, and the moment the door closed, Draco withdrew and sat by the large window, his knees drawn to his chest as he stared out the window with a stricken expression. Have gave pause for a moment, watching him, before he walked over and tucked his arm around his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, you know.” His voice was not nearly as steady or as strong as he would have liked it to be, but when Draco turned his face up to him, he smiled and cupped his cheek, leaning down to kiss him.

Draco seemed to instantly relax, his feet moving to the floor again, and Harry felt his heart give a little flutter in his chest. He recalled how he had felt the night before when he and Draco had slipped behind the statue in the hallway and he had begun to undress Draco. He could see the blonde’s eyes widen in anticipation as Harry’s hands opened his robes, and he could feel his fury at Hermione having found them. Draco seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck and rubbed his lips against the shell of Harry’s ear. “We’re not going to be alone for a long while…” It was true. They would no doubt be closely monitored for the next two weeks at the Burrow. Harry met Draco’s eyes to confirm that it was Draco who was speaking, and it was.

Harry’s tongue plunged into Draco’s mouth, and he flicked his wand so the curtains on the inside of the compartment slammed shut. Another flick and the door was locked, then his hands were wandering all over Draco, feeling his razor-sharp hips and the soft concave curve of his ribcage. Draco was arching into him, and Harry shifted their positions so that Draco was lying on the cushioned seat and he was lying on top of him. He could feel Draco’s cock pressing into his stomach, and he arched his back upward a little so he could slide a hand between them, and he deftly undid Draco’s robes before his hand slipped into them. His fingertips met the other’s arousal, and he seized it, dragging his mouth from the blonde’s lips to his neck. His robes were pushed apart, and the shirt beneath was unbuttoned before Harry was assaulting his nipples with a slithering tongue.

Draco’s eyes rolled as Harry trailed lower and lower, his hand a steadying weight on his erection, and he knew what was coming before it happened. The cold frame of glasses dropped onto his stomach, and he reached down to take them away the split second before two warm, pliant lips slipped over the head of his cock, and he whimpered. Lucius had never done this. The other Death Eaters had never wrapped their mouths around him and showed him that it was all right; no, that privilege was all Harry’s. He felt his trousers being pushed down to his knees and past them, and he spread his thighs wantonly as Harry buried his head between his legs.

Harry had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Judging from the sounds Draco was making, he was doing something right, and so he swiped his tongue over the glans, over the shaft, then engulfed Draco in his mouth as fully as he could. His right hand pushed up Draco’s testes and he palmed his perineum, massaging it rather clumsily as Draco’s hands threaded into his hair and helped him with his mouth’s slick strokes. His tongue lashed the other boy’s penis as he sucked him off, relishing the mild taste of him. He produced enough saliva to gather some on the tip of his finger, and he slipped it between Draco’s buttocks, gently massaging his anus as his mouth worked furiously. How he longed to fuck Draco then, to move over him and push in to the hilt, but he knew he must content himself with this for now.

The sudden presence of that finger made Draco gasp, and he arched his hips upward to give Harry better access to his opening. He threw his forearm over his eyes and yelped as Harry placed a wonderful, exquisite pressure on his perineum, and he shuddered. “Harry, I won’t…I won’t last…I…” It had been perhaps three minutes since Harry had begun and suddenly Draco was coming with force in Harry’s mouth, sitting up with the sheer pleasure of it, and he was yelling without care that there was no Silencing Charm placed on the compartment. There was a surge of voices outside, but he ignored it as he collapsed back onto the seat and trembled. “Fuck…”

The taste was foreign to Harry, but not unpleasant, and he had had to fight his gag reflex when Draco shoved himself deep into Harry’s mouth to come. Jets of ejaculate plastered the back of his throat and he swallowed convulsively, so horny he did not even hear Draco screaming in ecstasy. He sat back up and helped Draco dress properly again, taking a moment to call through the door that it was all right, that it was Draco and he was not well, then he leaned back in his seat and rubbed himself through his robes.

Draco’s eyes landed on Harry touching himself like this and he moaned, flocking to his side and burying his face in Harry’s neck. “Take it out, Harry,” he breathed, and he watched as Harry eased his aching erection from the confines of his clothes. His tongue snaked out to drag along Harry’s neck and ear, his eyes never budging from the sight of Harry stroking himself and moaning. He moved his mouth up to Harry’s ear, tracing the shell of the ear before whispering, “If this train weren’t so bumpy, I’d just love to hop on, you know…” Harry whimpered at this and pumped faster, his eyes squeezed closed in fantasy. “I’d crawl onto your lap and let you fuck me as hard as you wanted…Would you like that, Harry? Would you like me to sit on that big cock of yours?”

“Yes…” Harry breathed shakily, and he spread his legs a bit, his thighs tensing up. “Fuck, I’d love it, Draco…”

“So would I…” Then, to Harry’s utter shock, Draco slipped off the seat and quickly shed his robes and trousers, and he got onto all fours, displaying his arse to Harry. “Just imagine it, Harry…”

Harry dropped onto the floor and got to his knees behind Draco. He pressed the tip of his arousal to Draco’s opening and pushed just slightly, not enough to penetrate him, but enough to let him know he was there. Draco squeezed his buttocks around the head of Harry’s penis, and Harry gasped, grabbing Draco’s hip and jerking off furiously so that, on every stroke, his cock hit Draco’s arse, and in a few moments he was coming hard on Draco’s perfectly rounded buttocks. He pushed the erupting head to Draco’s anus again, warm streams of semen coating it, and he choked out Draco’s name before he fell back, breathing hard and fast. Draco took care of the cleanup, and Harry smiled weakly at him, supposing that the train ride would certainly not be all bad. He tucked himself back in his pants before he moved onto the seat again and took Draco in his arms, cuddling him. “That was amazing…” Draco seemed incapable of speech and merely nodded, holding tightly to Harry. 

The pair dozed until Hermione unlocked the door and came in with Ron at her heels. “Sorry we were gone so long,” she said a little breathlessly, and she grinned at Ron before she sat down across from Harry, who was blinking groggily. “I trust you two didn’t miss us…” Her eyes roamed over the bite marks on Harry’s neck and she blushed a little, the image of finding them behind the statue the previous night. Harry blushed, and she cleared her throat a little.

“Why on earth would we miss you, you filthy little Mudblood?” This statement was issued harshly from Draco lips, and Harry looked down at him sharply. “Filthy creature…You’d never step one muddy little foot into my house, you hideous animal, you can mark my words!” 

To her credit, Hermione took it in stride, and she gave Draco—rather, his newest personality—a very stern look. “Excuse me,” she said dangerously, and she glared at the blonde boy. “Why don’t you shove your purist bullshit right back up your arse where it belongs?” She was pleased to see him look shocked, and she leaned on Ron’s shoulder. 

“Your thoughts have been straying to my arse, have they, Mudblood?” the personality hissed, and Harry scooted away from his boyfriend. “In that case, I won’t be putting anything near it save for some good, strong soap to wipe away your filth with!” He turned on Ron. “And YOU, you nasty little blood traitor…”

Harry groaned and leaned back against the seat. It was a very, very long train ride back to King’s Cross.

 

Draco reappeared just before they disembarked, and he leaned heavily into Harry, looking extremely nervous. “Sorry guys,” he mumbled to Ron and Hermione, who merely shook their head. Hermione gripped Harry’s hand for a moment before they left the compartment, and Draco turned to his boyfriend. “Harry, something bad’s going to happen,” he claimed weakly, and he heaved a deep sigh. “I just know it…”

Harry frowned and gave Draco a little squeeze before picking up Hedwig’s cage and taking Draco’s hand. “I think we’ll be fine, Draco. Just stay very close to me, okay?” he asked, and he smiled as the blonde leaned into his shoulder. “There we go.” They walked side-by-side through the corridor and left the train, immediately pummeled by a sharp northern wind. “Feels like snow again soon…Look, there’s Lupin to pick us up!”

Remus was indeed heading over, a grin on his face as he took Hedwig from Harry and began walking with the boys towards the platform barrier. “Ready for a good winter break, boys?” he asked with a smile that, to Harry, made it seem as though Lupin had been drinking a bit.

“Er, yeah…” Harry said, and he released Draco’s hand as Hedwig began squawking in her cage. He took her back from Remus and frowned at her, reprimanding her for a moment before he looked back up to Remus. “Sorry, I…Where’s Mrs. Weasley?” He thought it odd that they did not have the usual guard with them. Ron and Hermione were discussing something with McGonagall, and Ginny had disappeared into the crowd, the usual guard was mysteriously absent. 

Then Harry saw it—Remus Lupin was rushing towards them through the crowd, wand aloft, and Harry dropped Hedwig’s cage in shock. Hedwig screeched, getting the attention of the entire platform, and Harry shoved Draco back hard, drawing his wand and holding it in front of him. “Lucius,” he spat, and he saw Remus’s face break into a maniacal grin. “Impedimenta!”

Lucius dodged the curse, sidestepping it and dashing forward to make a grab for Draco. “No!” Harry yelped, and he went to raise his wand again before he felt Draco ripped from his side. “Draco!” But it was only Ron who had pulled Draco back. Harry felt himself being pulled back as well, and he watched as Tonks and the real Lupin moved in to started casting curses at Lucius, who had suddenly drawn his wand. Harry heard the unmistakable incantation for the Cruciatus curse, and he turned to look at Draco, who was struggling against Ron. “Draco, relax, it’s just—”

“Harry, NO!” Harry turned his head to see an identical Ron Weasley rushing for them, and panic flooded through him. He tried to pull himself from the arms of whomever was holding him—a look confirmed it to be an imposter Hermione—and he broke free of their grasp a moment before, amidst the mass of confused and frightened students, he saw Draco turn to meet his gaze, those grey eyes filled with fear.

“Draco!” he yelled, and he tried to push his way to that blonde head, but his classmates were beginning to panic as Unforgivables flew in every direction. He could hear someone screaming in agony; it sounded like a young girl. He reached out for Draco, and he kicked someone very hard in his attempt to lunge at him, but he tripped and was stepped on several times before he was able to right himself again. He stood sharply and looked around desperately, and he caught sight of Draco once more before there was an ominous pop, and both Draco and the imposter Ron were gone.

“FUCK!” Harry screeched, and he spun around, looking for someone, anyone that could do something. There was no one in the crowd of over a thousand, and he gave a choked sob before he stood stock-still and closed his eyes.

He began to concentrate. _Malfoy Manor, Malfoy Manor_ …Where else would Lucius have taken Draco?! He suddenly felt a sickening feeling of having his insides squished uncomfortably together, and he yelled as the Platform disappeared around him. A moment later, he tumbled onto the grass before a sweeping white mansion atop a green hill, and he could hear someone screaming.

“I’m coming…” he breathed, and he started off up the sweeping lawn towards the garden.


	20. 19: Stolen

* * *

_“FUCK!” Harry screeched, and he spun around, looking for someone, anyone that could do something. There was no one in the crowd of over a thousand, and he gave a choked sob before he stood stock-still and closed his eyes._

_He began to concentrate. Malfoy Manor, Malfoy Manor…Where else would Lucius have taken Draco?! He suddenly felt a sickening feeling of having his insides squished uncomfortably together, and he yelled as the Platform disappeared around him. A moment later, he tumbled onto the grass before a sweeping white mansion atop a green hill, and he could hear someone screaming._

_“I’m coming…” he breathed, and he started off up the sweeping lawn towards the garden._

As Harry ran, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and he realized with a sickening jolt that he hoped that Lucius would play cat-and-mouse with Draco for a while before killing him. Harry needed to find them, needed to be able to get to Draco and save him and take him to the Burrow. “Fucking Ministry,” he hissed, and he heard a sharp yelp before there was an ominous silence from the direction whence it came. Harry wanted to vomit.

He came upon the garden and found it vastly overgrown, vines and trees and large bushes which were charmed to bloom all year taking over and restricting his view. He pushed through brambles, hearing a low rumble beyond that sounded like Lucius, and he pulled a rather sharp thorn out of his hand before he shoved through the very last of the sharp branches and stumbled into a snow-covered clearing.

In the center was a frozen pool, in the middle of which stood a tall, proud statue of an angel with its wings spread far. Her arms were thrown to the heavens, and bound to her torso, completely unconscious with a trickle of blood dribbling from his lips, was Draco Malfoy. “Draco!” he gasped, and h hurried forward, not thinking as he stepped onto the frozen pool, and he slipped and fell immediately on his face.

There was a soft laughter behind him, and he groaned, opening his eyes and catching a glimpse of completely frozen koi in the water before he lifted himself and turned to face Lucius Malfoy, who now assumed his normal appearance. “Good evening, Lucius,” he spat, literally spitting drops of blood as he spoke. The ice had been cold and unforgiving in his fall. His green eyes took in Lucius’s appearance, and the man appeared completely normal to the untrained eye. Harry, however, saw the crazy glint in his eye, the too-wide smile, and he lifted his wand to the father of his beloved. “Fancy meeting you here…”

“Amazing coincidence, isn’t it?” Lucius hissed, sounding for all the world like he was speaking Parseltongue, but Harry knew better, and he took an instinctive step backward to shield Draco as his boyfriend’s father took a step toward him. “Fancy that, you falling in love with my son…Any Seer would have been a fool to predict it…” He took another careful step forward, stepping onto the frozen surface of the pond. Harry was dismayed to see that he did not stumble. “I, however, saw an opportunity…”

Harry’s interest was piqued, but he did not say anything, for Draco moaned softly behind him, and Harry backed up into him, pressing the back of his head into Draco’s chest. “Leave him alone, Malfoy,” he growled, wand shaking in his hand, and he felt Draco’s hand move slightly in its binding to touch his hair. Lucius laughed coldly, and Harry scowled, but he never moved. For all he knew, that could be the last touch Draco would ever give him. “Shut up your laughing…Leave us and you will be apprehended properly by the Ministry of Magic. Otherwise, I will be forced to incapacitate you…” It was the only warning Harry would give, but Lucius merely cackled at him. “I SAID SHUT UP!”

“No one can hear you screaming out here, Potter,” Lucius whispered, and he drew close to the two boys. He could see that Harry was a cobra ready to strike, so he did not draw close enough to invoke his spellcasting, and he grinned madly at him. “You’re so incredibly easy, Potter…Did it never occur to you that Draco would have never, ever come to you on his own? Did it never occur to you that his personalities are just as malleable as he is? You foolish boy…Surely you did not think that Draco loved you? Honestly loved you?”

“What on earth are you talking about?!” Harry demanded, and he took a step away from Draco, who whimpered at the loss. Harry wanted to reach back and touch him, but it would have left him open to attack, and so he merely glared at Lucius, who was in full hysterics by this point.

“You did! Merlin, you ACTUALLY thought he loved you! Did he suck your dick, Potter? He’s fantastic at it, isn’t he? He’s got such a beautiful, slutty little mouth…Little whore…” Lucius beamed up at Draco, who let out a harsh sob and struggled against his bindings.

“SHUT UP!” Harry roared, visions from their earlier sexual encounter flooding his mind. He realized with a shock that Lucius was performing Leglimency on his, and he tried to block him out, but Lucius was pulling those memories from his mind with the ease that Snape had, and he clutched his forehead. “STOP IT!”

Lucius gave a short laugh and reached down between his legs, touching himself through his robes, and he grinned up at Draco. “My, my….My son does have a beautiful arse, doesn’t he, Potter? You wouldn’t believe how tight it is…He was like a virgin every time I touched him…” Harry watched in horror as Lucius began to unbutton his robes, and he cast the Impedimenta jinx at him in a moment of wild jealousy.

No one should ever have touched Draco but him! He knew that Draco had been raped, but he had never imagined Lucius to be so perverse about it. The very thought contradicted itself in Harry’s mind and he pushed it aside before he cast the curse again, as Lucius had blocked it easily with the first casting. The second was knocked away just as easily. “Have some fucking pride, Malfoy!” Harry growled, and he realized that he was panicking. It was as though all the jinxes he had ever learned had flown out of his head, and he struggled coming up with something to do to the man he considered, at that moment, more loathsome that Voldemort himself. 

“Pride?” Lucius asked, as though the word confused him. “Of course I have pride, Potter…Look at the heir I have produced! He is beautiful, a god, and with simple use of the Imperius curse—yours truly, thank you—he was so easily convinced to come after you. Imagine how he fought me in the beginning…’Father, no! That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard of! How can you disgrace us like this?!’ Can you imagine him saying that to me Potter? Can you?”

The shock of this statement took a moment to be absorbed, and he turned his head to look up at Draco. Tears were streaming down the blonde’s face, and Harry felt fury bubble up inside of him. “You liar!” Harry growled, facing Lucius again. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Lucius Malfoy! You have nothing to gain by it!”

Lucius grinned wickedly and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not lying. Look at him; he knows it’s true. It hurts him to think of i—Merlin, Draco, did you actually fall in love with Potter?!” His eyes had widened almost comically, and Harry could see the whites all around the grey irises. “I can’t believe it! You fucking did!”

The news of Draco having fallen in love with Harry in return was apparently taken very hard. Lucius looked absolutely enraged now as he took a furious step forward, but Harry brandished his wand at him, daring to take another step closer. “Don’t you fucking dare!” Harry hissed, unsure whether he had spoken in English or in Parseltongue, but whatever language it was spoken in, it was not lost on Lucius. He stopped dead in his tracks, but he was shaking.

“You little whore!” he howled, and he ripped his robes open to reveal his pale flesh to the cold winter air. Harry could see great cuts across his chest, fresh and bleeding, and he realized with a sick jolt that the man had carved his own son’s name harshly into the canvas of his flesh. “I gave you everything! I gave you life, I raised you, I….How could you betray me like this?!” He was screaming full-force now, and Harry could hear Draco sobbing like a child behind him. “HOW COULD YOU HAVE DONE THIS TO ME?!”

“HE HASN’T DONE SHIT TO YOU, YOU SICK FUCK!” Harry bellowed in return, and he backed right into Draco again. The boy’s hands moved desperately into Harry’s hair, and Harry could feel tears, cold as ice after their travel through the air, dripping into his hair. “Draco,” he whispered, and the hands on his head tightened. “Draco, be prepared to run. If I suddenly release you, be prepared to get the fuck out of here. Leave me…”

“No!” Draco choked, and he shook his head, though Harry did not see it. “I won’t leave you!”

“You will if I say you will, damn it!” Harry hissed, and he looked up into the other boy’s eyes briefly, seeing them filled with tears. He wanted to kiss him; he was tied to the front of the statue, and the wings spread out on either side of him. Draco looked as though he had assumed the substance of the statue, an angel frozen in time, and Harry did the hardest thing he had ever done—he stepped away from him.

Lucius snorted. “He’s no better for you, Draco…Look at him, leaving you exposed like that…” He seemed unfazed by Harry advancing on him, fury etched in every line of his face, and when Harry was suddenly feet from him, bristling, Lucius reached out to him with a nasty sneer. “Perhaps I should discover for myself what makes Potter so enticing…”

“DON’T YOU TOUCH HIM, HARRY!” Draco sobbed, watching as Harry continued to grow closer to his father. “DON’T!”

Tonks, Lupin, Moody, and Shacklebolt Apparated onto the front lawn of Malfoy Manor, and immediately heard the screaming occurring in the garden. “We can’t be too late?!” Tonks breathed, but the screaming did not seem as though it was brought on by pain. “Hurry…”

The four began running up the expanse of lawn, listening to the exchange between Lucius and Harry with dread. Then Draco’s voice was heard in the mix, and there was visible relief amongst the guard, but they did not stop running. They fought their ways through the garden, blasting the thorny bushes aside and creating a path to the clearing in the center of the garden, where they found Harry coming very close, dangerously close, to Lucius Malfoy while Draco hung upon the statue of an angel.

“Harry, what are you doing?!” Tonks yelled as Harry came within five feet of Lucius Malfoy, and Harry gave a start, looking over to her. He looked for a moment as though he could cry, but he turned steadfastly back to face Lucius, and, to the shock of every single person standing in the garden, Harry bowed to Lucius Malfoy.

“He’s going to duel him!” Kingsley whispered, and he watched as Lucius, obvious baffled, bowed back. “Is he mad?! God, someone get the boy off that fucking statue!”

Harry turned and took several paces from Lucius before he turned again, wand held aloft. For the first time, Lucius drew his own wand, which looked brand new. Harry assumed he had had to buy a new one after escaping prison, as his original would have been broken. The two men stared at one another for a moment before Harry gave a nod. “Prepare to die, Lucius Malfoy.”


	21. 20: Held

* * *

Nymphadora Tonks was not sure what she was thinking when she rushed forward, but she did. She did not rush for Lucius nor Harry, but for the boy tied to the statue, crying and struggling against the ropes holding him there. Neither Lucius nor Harry moved an inch as she passed, and she hurried over the frozen pool to the angel statue. “Draco, I’m going to let you down; we’re going to get you out of here,” she whispered, and she watched as the boy gave a half-hearted jerk against the ropes. “Just relax…”

She tried to cut the ropes by magical means but was unable, and so she pulled out a serrated knife and began cutting them manually. “If you cut me, I swear to God…” Draco trailed off. Tonks gave him a snarky little smirk then rolled her eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes at me!” What an inappropriate time for Draco to be getting touchy, she thought, but she realized that she may not even have been speaking to Draco. The tears had stopped falling down his blotchy face, and he had a hard look about him. Tonks frowned and cut the last rope before dropping the knife in time to catch Draco as he fell the six inches he had been elevated by his father. They tumbled to the snow together in a tangle of clumsy limbs, and Tonks would have laughed had the situation not been so damned serious. Draco was not laughing, either.

Draco helped her to her feet and the pair of them fled back to the rest of the Order members that were in attendance, and Draco watched from behind them as Harry, seeing now that Draco was safe, finally initiated the beginning of the duel. He cast a Shield Charm around himself silently before he slashed his wand through the air. “Expelliarmus!” he yelled, and Lucius’s wand fell to the ground while the man himself stumbled backward. Harry was displeased to see that he did not fall. “Is that all it’s going to take, Lucius? Me disarming you? Pathetic!” he snorted, and he watched as Lucius grabbed his wand again.

Though that had been easier than he had anticipated, he had the feeling that this would not be a simple duel. Lucius brandished his wand at Harry and flicked it. “ _Crucio_ ,” he scarcely more than breathed, and suddenly Harry was on the ground, screaming, writhing in agony. Pain was shredding through his every muscle and bone, and the snow around him was cold comfort from the heat that was searing through him. Lucius began to laugh, the sound starting low and deep then transforming into an insane cackle that would haunt Harry’s dreams forever…if he ever dreamed again. Harry wanted to open his eyes, to seek out Draco in the small crowd, but he knew that his eyes would surely pop out of his head if he tried.

Tonks heard the blonde boy make a small, strangled sound behind her, and she glanced back to see him on his knees in the snow, watching Harry through his fingers. “Don’t worry,” she said quietly in what she hoped was a soothing tone. In reality, it was shaking and frightened-sounding, and did no more than frighten Draco further. “Harry will pull through, Draco…”

“Why aren’t you doing anything?!” Draco hissed, pointing at her. “You’re a fucking Auror, aren’t you? Fucking DO something!” He felt powerless because he knew that Harry and his father had not named seconds in their duel, and in all reality, he wanted Harry to finish Lucius. He wanted the boy whom he had been ordered under the influence of the Imperius curse to woo to kill the man who had done this horrible injustice to him, Draco.

Lucius released the curse on Harry, who took a deep shuddering breath after but rose back to his feet. “Resorting to old habits, are we, Malfoy?” he choked out, and he resumed his offensive stance again. The pair circled each other glaring, though Lucius’s glare was dripping with amusement, and Harry stepped forward. “ _Incarcerous_!” he yelled harshly, though Lucius blocked the curse, and Harry flicked his wand again. “ _Stupefy_!” Again, his curse was dodged, and Harry growled in fury.

“This is what Dumbledore sends against the Dark Lord!” Lucius laughed, and he shook his head. “He can’t even incapacitate me! Come on, Potter, _give me your best_! You’re holding back, and it’s truly pathetic! How can you ever expect to protect yourself, much less my son, if you can’t even hit me with anything? _Incendio_!”

Harry’s robes caught flame at the bottom, and Harry stomped out the flames until there was no more smoke. “Fuck you, Malfoy,” he hissed, and he shook his head before he began throwing every curse he could think of at the man. They seemed to bounce off him, and Lucius was laughing through it all. 

“You should have been better at Occlumency, boy! Then you would have never landed yourself in this mess!”

That was what did it. Harry’s guilt at failing his Occlumency attempts, therefore killing Sirius, was what made him throw his wand aside and leap at Lucius Malfoy. There was a collective gasp from the Order members as Harry launched himself at the man, his fist raised in the air, and when he hit, he and Lucius tumbled to the snowy ground. “You son of a bitch!” Harry growled as he punched every part of Lucius Malfoy he could reach. “You sodding bastard! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” There was the sickening crack of Lucius’s nose beneath Harry’s fist.

Draco moved to step forward, wanting to do anything, but Remus held him back. “No, Draco,” he said quietly, looking down at his former student and seeing a fire, a passion in his eyes that he had never seen when he was in his class. Draco Malfoy had always been such a shit, possibly because he knew that Remus was a werewolf, thanks to Lucius, but now, as the blonde boy struggled to rescue his lover from the wrath of his father, Remus Lupin felt a surge of affection for the boy he scarcely knew. “Harry will take care of it…You will only complicate things.”

“Complicate things!” Draco snorted, and he searched for his wand in his robes. “Complicate things my arse! This is all my fault in the first fucking place, Lupin!” He found his wand and drew it sharply, but Remus grabbed it and held the end. “Fucking hell, Lupin!”

“Leave it!” Remus growled, wolflike, and Draco snarled at him. “Leave it, and Harry will take care of it! Until something happens, we are not to interfere!” 

“But we could kill him for Harry!” Draco whispered, his anger quickly devolving into desperation. “Please…” But Remus did not answer, and Draco squeezed his eyes shut.

Lucius was completely taken by surprise when Harry launched himself at him, and he yelled upon impact with the ground. He had never really been punched before, save for the scuffle between him and Arthur Weasley a few years previous, but it had been nothing like this. His hands reached up, and he tried to choke Harry, his nose pouring blood. It would have been broken, he assumed, but he had not felt the crack. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins like liquid mercury, and he saw glimpses of his son struggling to get to them. He wanted Draco there, wanted the boy to see him kill Harry so he could love him, Lucius, instead. After all, he had been the one to raise him, to shape him into the man he was becoming, and he was very proud of Draco; it was only natural that he should have a surge of sexual passion for him as well. “Draco,” he rasped, Harry’s hands around his neck, and he tilted his chin to the sky. “Draco, I do this for you…”

“SHUT UP!” Draco screamed from his place at Lupin’s side, and he watched in horror as Lucius seemed to find strength within himself, for he suddenly rolled with Harry in the snow, rolling on top of him and punching him in return. Harry was flailing beneath the man, and Draco stared as Lucius’s hands wrapped around Harry’s throat and began asphyxiating him. “STOP IT!”

Lucius laughed and released Harry’s throat at once, but he did not move from his place astride him. He could see fear in Harry’s eyes, but he could see loathing, too, and terrible, terrible darkness that he did not even dare to ponder. “You foolish boy,” he purred silkily, his hand lifting up to stroke against the stubble along Harry’s chin. “Hardly a man, and already so much in love…Foolishness. Love may be the reason you have for living, Potter, but it will be the end of you.”

Harry’s eyes followed Lucius’s right hand as it moved to the wand in the grass. Harry’s own wand hand grasped for his own wand, but it was too far, too far to reach, and he turned his head to look at Draco. Their eyes met as Lucius’s wand pressed to his Adam’s apple, and he mouthed something at him which Draco did not understand.

As the words “ _Avada Kedavra_ ” rang through the air, the flash of green forced Harry’s eyes closed, and Draco Malfoy’s howl, animalistic, ripped through the air with force.


	22. 21: Family

* * *

Draco was sitting at the kitchen table by himself at the Burrow, a cup of tea shaking in his hands as he held it close and inhaled the steam. He was choking and sobbing into the mug, his face blotched and his knuckles white around the hot mug. He did not even notice that it was burning his palms. He would allow no one else in the kitchen, not even Mrs. Weasley, who was anxious to start dinner for the forlorn house filled with her children. “GET OUT!” he snapped at her as she tried to come inside again, and she left with a sad sigh.

Hermione was sitting in the living room with a frown on her face, and she crossed her arms over her chest as she listened to Draco crying in the kitchen. When Harry walked into the room and sat down beside her, looking thoroughly miserable, she smiled and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “How are you holding up, Harry?” she asked quietly, and she smiled as Harry gave a bit of a pathetic nod. “Have you tried talking to him at all yet?”

“No,” the black-haired boy whispered, and he looked at the doorway to the kitchen. “I…I should have killed Lucius myself, Hermione…Why did I hesitate? God, why the hell did I hesitate?!” He dropped his gaze to the floor, but he felt himself being pushed off the couch, and he swallowed hard as he was pushed towards the kitchen. He stumbled in and saw Draco, a complete mess, sitting there, and his heart broke. Without saying anything, he walked over to his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around him from behind. “Give me that,” he whispered, and he took the hot cup from Draco’s shaking hands, setting it on the table, before he enfolded Draco.

“Come on, okay?” he asked quietly, and he smiled as Draco allowed Harry to pull him to his feet. “That’s it…” His hands were shaking as he took Draco’s, and he led him from the kitchen, giving a nod to Molly before he led the blond boy up the stairs and to the bedroom they would be sharing with Ron. Ron was out playing Quidditch with Charlie, Bill, and Ginny, so the room was completely deserted, and so Harry took him inside and locked the door before helping Draco onto the bed. “You want to talk?” he asked as he sat down beside him.

“No,” Draco whispered, and he looked up into Harry’s eyes. Harry smiled very softly and moved to wrap his hand up in Draco’s hair, and he drew him close. “Harry, I’m sorry,” Draco moaned softly, and he looked away, suddenly completely unable to look at him. “I was under the Imperius curse for a long time…right up until I got really, really sick and we moved into those private quarters. I fought through it then, but before that, it wasn’t me. It was…you know, him.”

Harry struggled with his thoughts for a few moments before he slipped his hand onto Draco’s cheek and turned his face towards him. “It’s okay,” he said quietly, and he saw emotion break in Draco’s eyes. “Do you love me, Draco?” His hands were on the other boy’s hips, and he pulled him a few inches closer. “Do you?”

Draco looked up and met Harry’s gaze again, and he clenched his teeth before he nodded, and Harry leaned forward to kiss him. Their lips crashed together fiercely, and tears flooded over Draco’s cheeks as Harry pushed him back onto the bed and crept on top of him, catlike in his movements. “I love you, too,” Harry breathed, and he slipped his tongue deep into Draco’s mouth. Draco had saved him, had killed his father to save Harry, had orphaned himself so they could have this together. “Draco, you just have no fucking clue…”

Draco moaned at these words and let Harry’s tongue plunder his mouth again. The voices in his head were quiet, the quietest they had ever been, and he knew it was because Lucius was gone. He was free. He was free from obligation to join the Death Eaters, free to pursue whatever he wanted, and, hopefully, free to live as one, whole person He was so caught up in kissing Harry that he scarcely noticed as Ron came into the room and gave a shocked, embarrassed yelp before backing out of the room.

“Er, Harry, Dad wants to talk to you!” he called through the door, and Draco heaved a small sigh as Harry stopped kissing him. They shared a look that promised a continuation of this later, and Draco kissed him on the chin before he was left on his own in the bedroom. He watched Harry leave with a small smile, and he was just settling under the blankets to have a nap when the door opened again, and Ron came inside. His ears were noticeably pink. “Hey, Malfoy,” he said quietly, and Draco nodded at him. His eyes did not open. “Can I talk to you?”

Draco cocked an eyebrow and then nodded before opening his eyes, though he made no movement to get up or even move from his half-buried position in the bed. Ron struggled trying to find a place to sit, and he finally settled on the foot of the bed, looking awkward and red. “Stop blushing, Weasley,” Draco said with a snort, and he shifted the blankets a bit so he could see better. “What do you want?”

Ron turned and met Draco’s gaze, and to Draco’s shock, he smiled at him. “You saved Harry,” he murmured, and Draco had to roll his eyes. “Don’t do that. Anyway, you saved Harry, and…That was damned decent of you, Malfoy. Draco, I mean. You’re…all right.” He held out a hand for Draco to shake, and Draco just stared at it before he smirked and reached out to take it. They shook hands briefly, their gazes steady, and slowly, the two boys broke into smiles, forming what had to have been the most unusual truce in Hogwarts’ history.

 

Arthur smiled as Harry came into the kitchen, and he offered him a traveling cloak. “Come on, Harry,” he said with a smile, and he went to the fireplace. “We’ll be going to Grimmauld Place tonight, if that’s all right with you? I won’t be free any other day this week, and I imagine you don’t want to wait until next…” He saw the expression on Harry’s face light up in the brightly-lit living room, and he smiled at him. As much as he did not like the Malfoy family, he found that, as he learned more about Draco from Ron’s letters, the more he found that he liked him. His first impression of him and Harry had, of course, been when Harry, shaken up and very sick-looking, had carried Draco into the kitchen. The moment Harry left the room to change clothes, Draco had burst into noisy, painful tears and forbade anyone from entering the kitchen, and though he had really wanted a spot of tea, he respected Draco’s grief and chose to leave him be.

Harry seemed to genuinely care for him, and that was what mattered. He watched as Harry threw a handful of Floo powder into the grate and called out their destination, and he hesitated for only a moment before he followed. When he arrived on the other side, Harry was already disappearing through the side door, and he took a place at the table to wait on him.

Harry eased through number twelve, Grimmauld Place with a feeling of dread. He had not wanted to return here ever, much less on a rescue mission for Draco, and so it was with careful steps that he walked through the house. He saw the black curtains behind which the painting of Walburga Black hung, and he thought about passing her up before he walked right up to them, his mind changed, and he opened them. “Mrs Black, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said with no small amount of sarcasm, and she regarded him with a nasty, haughty look.

“Halfblood scum, come back to ruin my slumber, have you?” she asked, venom in her voice, and she sneered right back at Harry as he did so. “What are you doing here, Potter boy? Still out ruining lives of respectable men and women such as myself?”

Harry crossed his arms and shook his head. “Look, Mrs. Black, I’ll be out of your hair—with pleasure, believe me—the moment I find a book in your library which will explain the Ancestral Rites of the Black family,” he claimed, figuring that there was no point in beating around the bush with her. He wanted that book as soon as possible, though judging from the look on her face at his request, he should not have even bothered asking her.

“The Potter boy! The boy who ruined my family, who ruined everything we stand for, is asking me for HELP!” She burst into screeching laughter, and Harry snarled at her before forcing her curtains closed and stalking into the library in the old house. As he looked up into the thousands of books, he closed his eyes and sighed. This was going to be a long night.

 

Draco, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting together in the living room, Hermione and Ginny grinning at Draco as, after being begged for the hundredth time that evening upon his descent from the bedroom, he sat back and told them about his and Harry’s first kiss. “I was still under my father’s Imperius curse at the time,” he stated quietly, and although he felt like such a gossip, he loved to tell stories. “Potter had really pissed me off, you know, dumping me on someone else because he couldn’t handle it…Well…He pissed father off, I suppose. I had that big tantrum in the Great Hall, then after Harry took me away, I sort of kissed him right there.” He gestured to a spot on his neck. Ginny blushed.

“He wasn’t happy about it. It was a whole three weeks before I woke up with nightmares, and Harry just sort of…rolled over and started kissing me. My father was furious, told me to kill him right there, but I couldn’t do it…I couldn’t. That began my fight against the curse, and a few days later, I was free again.”

Hermione crossed her arms in her lap as she leaned forward. “Did you develop feelings behind the curse? About Harry, I mean? After all, you could have just left him after you’d broken through the Imperius and worked with your problem on your own…”

“I could have,” Draco sighed, and he smiled to himself before smiling at her. “But yes, I’d developed feelings behind everything else. Harry was just…you know.” Ginny nodded with a grin, and Draco nodded back to her. She would understand more than Hermione would; he knew she was in love with Harry. “Anyway, I hope he finds something to help me soon…I feel rather bad for him, having to deal with me switching personalities all the time. You’d think he enjoyed it, looking at him, but he’s stressed. I can’t wait until he looks in my eyes and knows it’s me…When he’s looking at me and not wondering who he’s talking to.” He hung his head in guilt.

Hermione reached forward and touched his shoulder. “I think it’s wonderful, Malfoy.” She smiled as he covered his face with his hands, and she thought nothing of wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “We’re all the family you need.” She was relieved when he nodded.

 

It was three in the morning, and Harry picked up the last book he was going to look at for the evening. He had looked at hundreds, but there was no mention of the Ancestral Rite in any of them, and he pointed the wand at the last book. He uttered the spell and was prepared to throw the book aside when the book glowed, and his eyes widened. He flipped through to the section on rituals, and his eyes widened as he came upon pages and pages explaining the Ancestral Rite. “I got it!” he yelled, and he slammed the book shut. He heard Arthur jerk awake in the kitchen, and he hurried in to him. “Let’s go!”


	23. 22: Tense

* * *

Harry and Arthur returned to the Burrow so early in the morning that everyone was fast asleep, and so Harry set the book on the kitchen table before he crept upstairs to the room he and Draco were sharing with Ron. He paused and listened at the door, hearing nothing but snores, and so he quietly opened the door to see both Draco and Ron in their respective beds, sound asleep. Harry made for Draco’s bed immediately and sat on the edge of the mattress, and he took the time to appreciate Draco’s features, aglow in the moonlight from the window.

He ran his fingers over the high cheekbones, over the hollows of his cheeks, over the sharp end of his nose, and he was pleased that Draco did not wake at the small touches. Calloused fingertips slid over Draco’s forehead and slipped into his silky hair, which was so recently washed that it was still damp, and he leaned over to smell it. It was scented with citrus, and he placed a kiss to one damp lock before his eyes roamed down to Draco’s neck. The Adam’s apple, sharp and defined, remained still in Draco’s slumber, and he leaned down to kiss it as well. Draco stirred softly but did not wake, though one of his hands lifted and rested itself on the back of Harry’s head.

Harry shifted around until he was lying beside Draco, although he was lying on top of the blanket, and he glanced over to make sure that Ron was still fast asleep—he was snoring and mumbling irritably—before he began nibbling on Draco’s neck. Draco huffed and stretched, exposing more of his skin as the blanket slid off of his shoulders and revealed that he was not wearing any sort of shirt. Perfect. Harry’s biting kisses slid downward, pausing at the collarbone and at the hollow in Draco’s throat. It was not, however, until Harry’s tongue grazed one of Draco’s light pink nipples that Draco’s eyes shot open and he propped himself up on his elbows with a gasp. “Ha—” Harry placed a finger over his lips and shook his head before Draco lay back down and threw his forearm over his eyes, mouth open as teeth nipped and lips suckled at the identical buds on his chest.

Harry’s fingers caught the waistband of Draco’s pyjama pants, and Draco lifted his hips as they were tugged downward. For a brief moment, his arousal was exposed to the air, but then Harry was shrugging off his cloak, and then he was under the blankets and Draco was covered again as well. His eyes glazed over as warm lips trailed down between his legs, and he bit down hard on his own palm as Harry’s warm hand caressed his testicles then lifted them, and his sinful tongue swiped across Draco’s perineum. Draco’s legs lifted on either side of Harry, and he allowed his boyfriend to pull his hand downward, and he began to masturbate furiously as Harry bit the insides of his thighs hard enough that he was sure there would be marks in the morning. Warm breath ghosted over his balls, and he grabbed a pillow before putting it securely over his face to mask his breathing and soft moaning.

His eyes widened when Harry’s mouth disappeared for a moment then returned to the base of his erection, and he felt a saliva-soaked finger probing at his anus for a moment before it pushed inside and crooked upward. A spasm ran through Draco’s entire body, and he hissed gently into the pillow as a second finger joined the first, and Harry’s tongue was on his taint again, pressing hard as it roughly licked him, and when Harry crooked his fingers again, Draco jerked and very suddenly began to come with force. Harry caught him just in time and clamped his mouth over the head of the shaft, and Draco’s eyes squeezed close with the effort it took to not scream his pleasure into the silent house filled with people. Harry’s fingers slipped out of him, and he whimpered gently as Harry surfaced, grinning at him in the darkness. “Fucker,” Draco breathed as he removed the pillow from his face, but he was blushing heavily and smiling sleepily. “Want me to—”

“No, it’s too late,” Harry whispered as he got comfortable at Draco’s side, and he helped the blond boy pull his pants up. “I’m exhausted from looking through endless books. You wouldn’t believe…” His eyes fell closed as he spoke, and he buried his face comfortably against Draco’s neck.

Draco watched him, the obvious question on the tip of his tongue. _Did you find it?_ But Harry was already fast asleep, his mouth slightly open on Draco’s shoulder. He smiled softly and wrapped both arms around his boyfriend, and he fell back asleep himself.

 

When Harry woke the next morning, he woke up alone in bed, and he sat up, dazed. He saw that Ron was already out as well, and so he rose from the bed and made a pit stop in the washroom to brush his teeth before he headed downstairs to find Hermione and Molly sitting together with the thick book of Black history. “Good morning, Harry, dear!” Molly chirped when she saw him, and she looked around before she pointed to the front door. “I thought I saw Draco heading out to the garden around an hour ago, but I can’t be sure.”

Hermione looked up from her place in the book and gave a nod. “He told me during breakfast he would be in the garden throwing gnomes. I don’t think it’s something he’s ever done before…Fred and George were out there doing it already, so no doubt they’ve got him doing it.” She paused for a moment before sighing and turning the page in her book. “He did say he wanted to talk to you about something…It sounded pretty important. I’m looking for the spell, so you go take care of him, okay?”

Harry nodded and walked outside, still dressed in the rumpled clothes he had worn to Grimmauld Place. The morning was crisp and chilly, a fresh layer of snow lining the ground, and he followed footprints in the snow to the garden. Sure enough, Draco was wrestling with a gnome, which was clamped onto his hand, and he sent it flying far over the garden wall. “Take THAT!” Draco yelled irritably after it, and when he heard a distinct giggling behind him, he flipped around, his earmuffs askew and his hat nearly falling off, to look at Harry with annoyed eyes. “Oh, and what are YOU laughing at, Potter?” he snapped, nursing his hand, and he scowled up at Harry as the black-haired boy took the hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss it.

“You’re mad,” Harry observed quietly, and Draco rolled his eyes. “In the literal and figurative sense, of course. I wasn’t just stating the obvious, you head case.” Draco wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms in defence against the wind, and Harry pulled him close before pressing a kiss to his red nose. “What did you want to see me for?” his lips mumbled against that freezing nose, and Draco relaxed in his arms.

Molly had taken a moment to make tea in the kitchen, and she looked out the window to see Harry holding Draco, shielding him from the wind and kissing his nose. She crossed her arms and smiled, observing Draco’s scowl turning into a comfortable smile, and when Draco leaned in for a kiss, she turned away to let them have their privacy. She went to the doorway of the kitchen and watched Hermione going through the book. “Is Draco good for Harry, Hermione? I would never have believed it.”

Hermione paused in her reading and looked up at Molly with a small smile. “From what I’ve seen, they’re well suited to one another. Harry really…Well, he really loves him, I think, and I know Draco thinks the world of him, too. As for whether they’re good for each other…Er, that remains to be seen, I think.” She and Molly shared a laugh, and she turned another page.

Draco pulled back from a rather long kiss from Harry, and he righted his hat before he smiled up at him. “They all…They all want to thank you for fighting my father,” he whispered finally, and Harry gazed at him in astonishment. “They say they’ve got something for you…I don’t know what it is. Anyway…” He sighed and uncrossed his arms, and his eyes unfocused. 

The first personality emerged, and Harry found himself gazing into defiant eyes. “Potter,” the personality spat, and Harry recalled this personality emerging on the train. “You filthy blood traitor…Do you know why I was here?” It was not a friendly hiss, and Harry shook his head, eyes slightly wide. “I chose to assist because Draco, dear Draco, is a proper Pureblood/ He has the proper ideals, and he never abandoned them during his trauma. I helped him keep his wits about him, and my name is Walburga Black.” Before Harry could respond, she was gone, and then there was another personality.

“I gave him the strength to resist my old colleagues. Regulus,” the boy breathed, and Draco’s head swivelled before he shook his head. “Because he needed someone to try to talk him out of you, Potter—Phineas.” “Because I wanted to see you again, Harry…Sirius.” “Because I was incredibly bored—Lycoris.” Draco paused, and he looked up into Harry’s eyes, a very strange look on his white face. His hand reached up to touch Harry’s cheek, and he breathed, “Someone had to give him the strength to kill my husband…Narcissa.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he felt his heart begin to beat faster as more names poured from Draco’s lips. Hesper, Harfang, Pollux, Lucretia, Ursula, Marius, and Orion. The blond looked possessed as he chanted names and reasons, and when it stopped, Harry reached out for him. Draco’s eyes flashed as he looked up sharply, and a nasty sneer overtook his pretty lips.

“Oh, Potter…Potter, Potter, you’re s very stupid,” he insisted, and he gave a mad cackle that caused Harry’s breath to hitch. “I told you to never touch me again…Ever!” He suddenly lunged at Harry and knocked him to the ground, and his wand was at Harry’s throat, pressing menacingly against his Adam’s apple. “That’s your problem, Potter. You never learned to listen!” 

They scuffled in the snow as Harry growled and flipped him back over, his fists pummelling into Draco’s stomach. They were both screaming and cursing, Harry demanding to have Draco back and the doing his very best to get at Harry’s throat, to kill him.

Molly’s attention was grabbed by the sound of them shrieking in the garden, and she rushed to the window to look out. “Hermione, they’re—!”

“I’ve got it!” Hermione yelled, and she tore out of the house with the book in hand. She ran to the garden, kicking up snow behind her with every step, and when she stood over the fighting boys, she held out her wand and began to chant what sounded very much like a song over them. Harry could not make out any of the words as he ripped and tore at Draco’s hair, then Draco suddenly stilled and looked up to Hermione.

“You clever, clever girl…” Harry suddenly recognised the voice—it was Ian, the moderator of all the personalities—and he gasped up at him. “Oh, finally got it, have you Potter? You didn’t believe me, did you? You didn’t believe I would just leave? No, no…” He began to laugh, but Hermione was repeating the spell, and it was visibly weakening him. He leapt to his feet and screamed at her, but he could not touch her, and Harry stood as well, holding Draco’s body so it could not flee. He fought hard. “Let me go! LET ME—”

His body seized up and twitched, and Harry held on tightly. When he finally relaxed, he glanced back at Harry, his eyes dull, and he whispered, “Harry, they’re…they’re gone.” His eyes rolled back in his head, and Harry caught him before he hit the ground.


	24. 23: Epilogue

* * *

Green eyes slid slowly open and blinked owlishly for a moment before large hands came up and rubbed furiously at them before Harry’s vision cleared enough to make out the sleeping blond next to him. This was comfortable, the perfect way to wake up on a Christmas morning, and so it had been for the past two Christmases. Every year, Harry and Draco spent Christmas Eve at the Burrow with the Weasleys and Hermione, and every Christmas morning since the morning after Draco’s Ancestral Rite finished, Harry did the very same thing.

He reached out, resting his hands on Draco’s body and pulling it closer, so close he could bury his nose in Draco’s hair. The blond gave a little moan in his sleep but did not wake, and Harry beamed at him, checking the clock over Draco’s shoulder. 08:23—perfect. No one else would be awake, with the exception of Molly, and so they would not be interrupted. He flicked his wand at the door, casting a Silencing Charm so as to not disturb anyone else, before he suddenly and forcefully rolled Draco onto his back. Draco hardly stirred, smacking his lips in his sleep. “You sod,” Harry breathed, and he swiftly disappeared beneath the blankets. Draco’s pale, bare stomach leapt under his fingertip-touch, and he pressed a kiss to the golden-blond trail of fuzz leading from Draco’s bellybutton into his boxer shorts before his fingers snagged the waistband and drew it downward. The boxers rolled off of Draco’s hips with little resistance, and Draco’s lips smacked again.

Neither Harry nor Draco was usually a morning-sex type of guy, they had discovered in the past two years, but Christmas was special, and traditions must be upheld. Their first Christmas together, just after Draco’s ‘personalities’ had disappeared, the blond had been sporting quite the morning erection and Harry had been completely unable to help himself.

_“What are you doing?” Draco mumbled as his eyes slid open, but they immediately slammed closed again as Harry’s mouth, still terribly unskilled at this, slipped over his cock and gave it a very proper good morning kiss. “Ah…” His legs spread wantonly, and he lifted his knees to wrap his shins around Harry’s shoulders. He supposed it was lucky Ron had given the room to them for the evening, in celebration of Draco’s newfound sanity. Liquid heat pooled in his thighs, and he buried his hands in Harry’s hair as he thrust clumsily, sleepily, into Harry’s willing mouth._

Harry’s path took the same one it had two years ago, his lips rubbing lazily down from Draco’s bellybutton to his hips, those razor-sharp hips that jutted almost too high above his lover’s stomach, and he scraped the thin flesh with his teeth as his hand traversed Draco’s right thigh and moved upward. His slipped his thumb and index finger under the blond’s balls so that his palm cupped his perineum, and he suckled hard and fast on the flesh of the hip in his mouth, leaving a lovely purple mark. Draco’s morning erection brushed warm and velvety soft against his cheek, and Harry turned to run the wing of his nose along the proud shaft. Draco shifted in his slumber and exclaimed wordlessly when Harry’s right hand, still palming his taint, applied a bit of pressure and stimulated his prostate.

Harry gave a sleepy little laugh into the thick blond curls at the base of Draco’s cock, and he sinfully swiped only the very tip of his tongue where the shaft met Draco’s scrotum. Harry’s own arousal pressed insistently into the white sheet beneath him, and he whispered, breathed, “Wake up, wake up,” against the head of Draco’s now-dark red cock. His lips were slick with saliva as he spoke, and Draco was gasping above him.

_Draco was gasping as Harry’s head bobbed on his cock, and he realized with a shock that he had not returned the first blowjob Harry had given him. Harry did not seem to mind, however, for he was swallowing Draco as much as he could have, opening his throat and trying to take him all, but he gagged around the length and pulled back with a clumsy giggle. “Guess I can’t do that yet,” Harry proclaimed from somewhere—Draco knew exactly where—beneath the blanket. Draco grinned and gave a nod, but his eyes were shut as tightly as they could be, for he knew that Harry was not done. “You want me to continue?”_

_“Fuck, yeah…”_

“I’m awake,” Draco moaned with a shudder, and he glanced over to the clock before his eyes rolled back in his head. Harry’s tongue was rolling all over the cherry-red apex of his erection, then it was traveling downward with long strokes, coating him in saliva. “You’ve got the sluttiest mouth for a Golden Boy, you know that?” He loved Harry’s mouth, loved it almost as much as he loved his arse or his cock, just not quite. Harry responded by doing something he certainly had not been able to do two years ago: he swallowed Draco whole, taking all of him into his mouth and throat and pressing his lips to those aforementioned curls in a strange sort of kiss. Draco cursed loudly and ached all over with the heat of the encounter, spreading his legs and quite literally whining for more. Harry chuckled around his cock, and Draco was sure he would just die. Harry pushed with his palm again, and the tingles shooting up Draco’s spine from his prostate jump-started his heart again, and he was writhing so hard that the fitted sheet came out from under the mattress and tangled around them. Neither man noticed.

“Fuck me?” Draco asked, and this was the reason for which he hated morning sex typically. He could not hold himself back, could not allow foreplay to go on as long as it might have, for he was quick to come to climax just after waking. Had it been evening, they would have fooled around for half an hour, minimum, with much of Harry’s tongue buried deep in Draco’s arse. It turned Draco on like nothing else, but he knew that Harry enjoyed it far more than he did, and so rimming would normally be saved for the moments just before sex, or they would both come in moments. This morning, and every morning they did this, however, Draco wanted fucked and he wanted fucked immediately. 

“No,” Harry breathed as he slipped his mouth off of that erection with a soft pop, and he crept with the liquidity of a cat up Draco’s body and propped himself up over him, his nose just inches away from his lover’s. Draco’s erection was pointing straight upward and nudging Harry’s in a suggestive manner, and Harry grinned at the tortured look on his boyfriend’s face. “No, I think I’m ready…”

_“Fuck me, Harry…Please, I’m ready for you to fuck me,” Draco gasped as Harry crawled over him and lay, naked and grinning on top of him. He did not care that he had just killed his father days before, that he was only hours into his stability of mind—he wanted Harry and was tired of waiting. For once, they would not have to be concerned with Draco getting lost inside his own head, would not have to stop to make sure Draco was all right because he was._

_Harry’s eyes widened and he searched Draco’s grey ones as though trying to detect whether or not he was lying. He found no deceit there, and his eyebrows knitted together before he fingered through Draco’s hair and smiled. “Of course,” Harry murmured as he dipped his head and pressed a few heated kisses to the ridge of Draco’s collarbone. A sudden fear gripped him—he really did not have much of an idea how this worked at all—but Draco knew what he was doing, and he pulled the sinful little bottle of oil he had purchased for them through owl order the week before they left Hogwarts from the nightstand and pushed it into Harry’s hand._

_“Finger me…”_

“What do you—? A-ah, fuck, Harry, really?” Draco stammered as he realized what Harry was suggesting. For the two years they had been having sex, Harry had been much too nervous about letting Draco penetrate him, and Draco had so desperately wanted to. He never pushed the subject, as he was happy bottoming for Harry at any time, but that certainly had not stopped him from wanting it. Harry nodded down at him and grinned before he snagged the lube from the bedside table and moved so he was on all fours, proudly displaying his arse to Draco.

The blond’s cheeks lit on fire as Harry coated his own fingers in the oil and waved them playfully at Draco before He reached back and slipped one finger into himself. “That’s right,” Harry purred seductively, and he shot Draco a devilish look over his shoulder before he pushed another finger inside with a slight wince then began to stretch himself with them. He had been preparing for this surprise for weeks, casually fingering himself in the shower, getting used to the feeling of something in his arse, and so the wince was really for Draco’s enjoyment. 

Draco reached out a hand and palmed Harry’s left buttock before he squeezed it and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. His grey eyes were fixated on Harry impaling himself upon his own fingers, and he reached down with his right hand to stroke himself lightly at the sight. “Take the time you need,” he murmured, and he swallowed thickly as Harry shoved another finger into himself and began to fuck himself with them. “You’re a fucking minx, you know that?”

“Don’t forget it,” Harry whispered, and he gave a breathy moan as Draco grabbed the lubrication from his hand and began spreading it liberally on his cock. Harry pulled his fingers out of himself and gave his own arse a slap before he arched an eyebrow at Draco. “Go on then, Malfoy…”

Draco sneered at him at the jab, but his heart was pounding heavily in his chest as he lifted himself onto his knees and guided the head of his erection to Harry’s puckered, slick arse and pushed forward. Warmth enveloped him as the muscles granted him passage and he slid inside of the other man, his breath immediately becoming shallow as Harry pushed back, pulling Draco deeper and deeper until he was buried to the hilt within the black-haired boy. “Fucking hell, Potter…”

_It certainly was not Draco’s first time having someone’s fingers shoved up his arse, but this was most definitely the first time he had not been terrified during the ordeal. He was arching his back and moaning as Harry, currently two fingers deep, traced the inside of his ear with the very tip of his tongue. Draco felt as though his cock was going to explode when Harry’s fingers crooked upward and sent shudders up his spine, and he heard himself choking out Harry’s name just as a third finger wriggled its way inside. “Harry…Fucking Merlin, will you get on with it? You’re not going to hurt me…”_

_Harry’s eyes met Draco’s once more before he grinned and nodded. “Whatever you say…” He watched as Draco shoved the pillows they had previously been sleeping on under his hips, elevating them, and he groaned as Draco took the oil and spread it over Harry’s erection. A flutter of doubt, of nervousness, made Harry swallow convulsively, but he wanted this, wanted to lose his virginity to Draco right then. He whimpered as he positioned himself in front of Draco, his legs stretched out awkwardly behind him for the moment as he pressed his cock to Draco’s arse and slipped only the head inside. Even that much was enough to make Harry want to come, but he held himself back and pushed further, hands shaking on Draco’s hips as they found purchase there._

_Draco was moaning and whimpering beneath him, opening his legs wider and bearing down on that cock, slight twinges of pain fluttering through his abdomen as Harry finally had pushed in as far as he could, his scrotum resting warmly against Draco’s tailbone. The black-haired boy was trembling all over by this point, and he waited until Draco gave him a nod before he moved over Draco, propping himself up over him and digging his knees into the sheet-strewn mattress just before he began to thrust shallowly. Draco’s hands were on Harry’s neck and hip, and he met Harry’s eyes, gasping for breath as he was fucked. He wanted to say something, to tell Harry that he loved him more than life itself, but Harry took a much deeper thrust, and a loud, pleased cry ripped out of his throat instead._

Harry nuzzled his face into the sheets and moaned deeply as Draco pulled back and began to plunge into him again and again. He suddenly wondered why in the hell he had not let Draco do this before—it was _wonderful_ —but his thoughts were cut short as Draco changed his angle just slightly and rubbed right against Harry’s prostate in a way that was so pleasurable it almost hurt. His short nails dug into the bed, and he squeezed his buttocks around Draco’s cock, the moan it pulled from the blond making Harry want to flip right around and fuck him in return, but then Draco was hitting that spot again, and he was crying out viscerally into the quiet room with every one of Draco’s thrusts. 

The feel of Harry squeezing and the sound of him announcing his pleasure to the mattress forced Draco to fuck him ever harder, and he reached around to take a shaky hold on Harry’s arousal. He tried to stroke it in time with his thrusts, but he could not concentrate on both at once, so his hand was, in his opinion, doing a rather halfhearted job. Harry did not seem to agree, however, for he spluttered something unintelligible into the bed before beginning to move, meeting Draco’s cock halfway on every movement. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK, Draco!” Harry choked, and Draco was just about to let himself come when Harry suddenly pulled off of Draco and shoved him hard back onto the bed.

“Wh-wha—?!” Draco managed, sprawled out on his back, before Harry crawled over him and poured a hefty amount of oil down Draco’s erection before he positioned himself over it, his legs to either side of Draco’s hips, and Draco met those green eyes with a look of painful arousal before Harry pushed himself down on that proud cock. The now-familiar warmth of Harry’s arse clutching at Draco made the blond reach up and bury his nails in Harry’s hips, and his eyes rolled back as Harry began bouncing himself atop him, one of his hands wrapped around his own cock and stroking it in time with every lift and fall.

_Harry pushed his body up a bit and grabbed one of Draco’s legs, never stopping his desperate thrusting into the other as he pulled that leg over his shoulder and rested his cheek lightly against Draco’s shin. Draco was arching his back and writhing, jerking himself off while Harry sank himself deep inside him again and again. Draco felt tears—not of pain, that was for certain—coursing down his cheeks as Harry began to lose himself in the sensations. “Harder…Fuck, harder!” Draco begged in a loud, gasping cry, and Harry complied with his request, slamming so hard into his boyfriend that he was amazed it did not hurt the blond. But no, Draco was masturbating furiously and, now, sobbing Harry’s name as he drew ever closer to orgasm. Harry’s heart began to beat faster, and the white-hot flower of heat in his groin was threatening to burst at any moment as he both watched Draco and partook of him. Draco’s arse began to squeeze around his thrusting erection, and Draco suddenly yelled without restraint, all of his muscles tightening almost impossibly around Harry as he came so forcefully that jet after jet of white splattered his chest and the underside of his chin._

_Harry gasped and let himself go completely at the sight and feel of Draco coming around him, and Draco’s name was ripped from his chest as he felt his own cock begin to twitch deep within the other boy’s clenched arse. Draco was still coming hard when Harry emptied his desire deep within him, his balls tight against his body as his hips jerked convulsively and his cock buried itself as deep as possible within that tight passage as he came._

Draco was writhing and twisting under Harry, his hips occasionally jerking hard upward as Harry began each downward descent. Harry knew that he, Draco, was not long for this world, and he gave fucking himself on that cock all the energy he had. He reached back with his left hand and wrapped his fingers around Draco’s scrotum, giving it a soft, caressing squeeze, and just before he knew Draco was about to come, he brought his finger up to his mouth, soaking it in saliva before he moved it downward and slipped it deep within Draco and pressed against his prostate.

That was it for Draco. He threw his forearm over his eyes and stopped holding back, shuddering and moaning Harry’s name as he immediately began to ejaculate inside the other man. Harry did not stop riding him for an instant, and Draco jerked and spasmed beneath him while he came, cursing. When he fell still and lifted his forearm to peek out at Harry, cheeks flushed and mouth slightly agape, he shuddered as Harry pulled himself off of his cock and moved up over him, still jerking himself off determinedly. “Open up,” Harry breathed, and Draco’s eyes widened before he opened his mouth obediently. Harry pushed his cock deep inside of that willing mouth and let himself go, groaning as Draco’s lips suckled him as he finally came. He could feel Draco’s tongue swiping along the sides of his erection as he poured himself down Draco’s throat, and when he pulled out and collapsed backward onto the mattress, shivering with the force of his orgasm, he grinned at Draco.

“Merry Christmas.”

_“Merry Christmas, Draco…”_

“Happy Christmas, Potter.”

_“Merry Christmas, Harry.”_

There came a knock at the door around half an hour later. Harry and Draco were already cleaned up and dressed for the day, so they were not startled when Ron opened the door and peeked inside. “Oh, you’re up,” he stated with a hint of surprise in his voice, and his head disappeared for a moment before he slipped into the room and closed the door. There was the sound of a baby screaming downstairs before he closed it, and he rolled his eyes before he shook his head. “You don’t mind if I hide in here for a moment, do you? Bill can’t get his baby to stop shrieking long enough for us to get started on presents, and Mum’s trying to get me to watch it.”

Harry snorted and shook his head. “Hide away,” he invited as he watched Draco inspecting himself in the mirror. Ron nodded and looked as though he was considering sitting on the bed, but he caught sight of the half-empty bottle of oil left out on the nightstand and thought better of it.

“Er, all right.” He settled for a chair.

It had been two full years since Draco was cured, and their lives had changed completely since then. They had graduated from Hogwarts, and Harry was currently in Auror training for the Ministry even though Voldemort had been defeated the year before by Harry, Hermione, and Draco. Ron had been away at the time, and Voldemort had caught the three one Saturday night when they were having dinner in Diagon Alley, where Harry and Draco shared a flat. It was a combined spell from Harry and Draco that killed him, and the boys had been in St. Mungo’s for weeks afterward. Neither knew what spells they had cast, but they supposed it did not matter. They were alive, and Voldemort was not. Nothing could be more important.

Draco worked at Quality Quidditch Supplies across from their flat, though he certainly did not have to. “I have to have something to do with my time, Potter,” he had snapped at Harry when Harry skeptically questioned his motives. He worked while Harry was away in training for the better part of every weekday, though he never worked more than six hours or so. Both he and Harry had the newest broomstick prototype, Tailwind IV, though they wondered if there had ever been a Tailwind I, II, or III. Harry insisted that it was really just a more expensive version of the Firebolt, but Draco knew better. It went half a mile an hour faster, had slightly better balance (Harry insisted there was nothing wrong with the Firebolt’s balance, but Draco informed him that he sat crooked on it, so he would not have noticed. Harry thumped him.), and had better anti-jinxing charms. It was the sort of subject they did not discuss too often, as it often led to a fight.

Ron and Hermione were no longer together, as Ron got too paranoid whenever he left on business trips for Fred and George’s joke shop. They parted on good terms, and it was painfully obvious that Hermione was still deeply in love with Ron, but she told Harry that they both needed to grow up a bit before trying again. 

Bill and Fleur Delacour were married and had a daughter, Amiella, who was just three months old. Charlie was still single and fighting dragons in Romania, while Fred and George were wildly successful with their shops in both Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Harry often had them over for lunch on weekends, and Draco was growing quite fond of them. Ginny was flying for the Holyhead Harpies as Chaser, their newest team member. Percy was Assistant to the Minster of Magic, and they rarely saw him.

There had been a good five minutes since the baby stopped crying, and so when Molly called, “Presents!” up the stairs, the three men left the room and stomped downstairs. Draco looked over at Harry and beamed at him, tangling their fingers together and looking pleased. Harry leaned over and kissed him just before they reached the bottom of the stairs and took a seat on the floor next to Bill, who immediately handed the baby over to Draco.

Draco made a funny face at Bill and cradled the child in his arms, looking down at her with something between terror and adoration. Harry cocked an eyebrow at him and watched as Draco touched her hair and her chubby cheeks curiously, and he leaned lightly into Draco’s shoulder. The baby grabbed one of Draco’s fingers and pulled it into her mouth with a strong grip, and Draco wrinkled his nose as she gummed his fingertip. “Gross,” he muttered, but he was smiling, and when Bill offered to take the baby back, Draco shook his head and continued to hold her.

Harry grinned at him and, when everyone began ripping their presents open, he leaned over in the noise and whispered, “You want one?” Draco’s eyes widened and he met Harry’s gaze with a skeptical look, and Harry burst out laughing at his expression. “I’ll take that as a no, shall I?”

“You can clean up the puke and the shit, Potter…” They laughed together, and Bill took the baby so they could open their gifts. Sitting there, covered in sweaters and tacky underpants, Harry looked over to Draco again, watching as he opened his gifts, and he smiled to himself. Draco glanced over and saw him staring, and he gave him a slight smile with a questioning look before going back to his presents.

Harry knew how lucky he was. Even Ron and Hermione had not been able to stay together, and everyone still gave him and Draco curious looks, as though wondering how they made it work so well. Harry knew it was because they told each other everything and kept no secrets whatsoever, and that it was because they trusted each other implicitly. He knew Draco would not cheat on him, and he would never even think about it himself. He often thought about how McGonagall and Dumbledore—may they rest in peace—had given him the option of leaving Draco by the wayside (though Draco had certainly given him no such choice). He could not even imagine his life now without Draco at his side, and he did not regret for a moment the night he took Draco back into his care.

“Will you stop staring at me?!” Draco snarled playfully at Harry so the others could not hear. Harry blinked at him then smiled apologetically, chuckling as Draco leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. “What are you thinking about, anyway?”

“Your arse,” Harry proclaimed firmly, a stupid grin on his face, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Naturally.”


End file.
